Arming Pasadena
by Terias Mcklay
Summary: When a critical weapons deal goes South, Sarah and Cameron must discover who betrayed them and why. Edited to split Chapter 13 and Epilogue. Link added for fanvid inspired by fic.
1. Chapter 1

Arming Pasadena: Part 1

"Cameron! Get your ass in the truck!" Sarah Connor yelled, dropping low in the seat as bullets cracked through the windshield. Pushing open the passenger side door with one hand, she used her other arm to steer, popping the clutch before dropping the Jeep into reverse.

Cameron, ever the picture of innocent stoicism -even in the midst of a gun fight- walked with calm purpose towards the Jeep. Grabbing hold of the frame, she pulled herself into the passenger seat. The sturdy Jeep sank low on its frame as Cameron settled in. A consequence of the hundreds of pounds of metal alloy hidden beneath the skin of the deceptively small form beside Sarah.

The crack of another gunshot was quickly followed by the rear window shattering. Sarah dropped her foot to the floor, the reversing Jeep clipping the gunman as she went. A pained cry, the clatter of a gun meeting asphalt and suddenly Sarah was met with the disturbing feeling of four wheels rolling over a soft form. She spared a look for the downed gunman, his broken body unmoving as they reversed from the warehouse where their arms deal had gone wrong.

The trouble had started with the sounds of sirens in the distance. Both parties had turned on one another, convinced the other had brought police, or worse the FBI, down upon them. The situation had deteriorated quickly from there.

"We have approximately thirty seven seconds until the police arrive at our location. They appear to be approaching from all major routes," Cameron warned, pulling a fresh clip from her belt and loaded her Glock. "There is a sniper in the warehouse."

"What?" Sarah's gaze switched from the empty parking lot behind her to the warehouse ahead of them.

"Adjust left," Cameron advised, calmly pulling the slide back on the large weapon.

"What?"

"Turn left." A strong hand gripped the wheel, tugging hard to change the Jeep's direction as another hand blocked Sarah's line of vision. The unmistakable crack of a bullet pierced the air leaving Sarah a split second to wonder if the terminator had acted quickly enough to save them. She wasn't dead yet, that would have to be enough.

Grunting as the ass end of the Jeep connected with a chain link fence, Sarah kept on the pedal, the engine revving high as the steel refused to give way to her vehicle.

Reflexes quickly over riding her panic, Sarah threw the Jeep into first gear, peeling out of the parking lot. Head ducked low as she turned the corner, tires squealed as she maneuvered them out of the lot into a back alley. Keen eyes caught the spatter of blood across the dash. Sarah did a quick check to be certain she hadn't been hit and that her mind wasn't still trying to catch up to her body.

Didn't look like it.

Sarah hadn't taken any damage beyond the gash on her knee, courtesy of Cameron pushing her out of harms way when the first shots had gone off. Cameron. If the blood wasn't Sarah's then it was the terminator's. A quick glance showed Cameron inspecting a badly mutilated slug in a blood covered hand.

"Did you…" She didn't have opportunity to finish the question as a police cruiser turned into the alley. Slamming on the brakes, Sarah put the Jeep into reverse as Cameron dropped the slug and brought her pistol up to sight on the police cruiser. "Cameron!"

The shots were fired before Sarah could move to push the bullets off course. Perhaps for the best as Sarah noted the shots had been aimed at the hood of the police cruiser, not at the occupants.

"Their vehicle is disabled, move forward." Cameron stepped out of the vehicle, walking toward the police cruiser, gun trained on the now fleeing officers.. Sarah raised an eyebrow as the girl -machine- she corrected, easily picked up the front end of the black and white sedan, rolling the vehicle out of the alley. Driving forward, Sarah waited as Cameron twisted the front axle of the police cruiser to ensure there would be no pursuit.

"We should go," Cameron said, belting herself into the car.

"Took the words out of my mouth, Tin Man."

"We were set up," Sarah said as she, John, Cameron and Derek sat at the kitchen table. Her attention was half on the conversation and half on Cameron's hand, watching with morbid curiosity as the terminator inspected the damage.

"Are you sure? I've used Edwards before, he's always been reliable." Derek didn't bother to spare a glance as Cameron shifted items in the tool box, searching for the right implement. Taking Cameron's damaged hand, Sarah lifted it for Derek to see.

"That's from a sniper rifle that nearly made apple sauce out of my grey matter. Yes, I'm fairly certain we were set up."

"I told you to send chrome dome in by herself," Derek retorted, blue eyes taking in the damaged hand before he blandly turned back to Sarah.

"I am not chrome. I am a koltan and steel alloy," Cameron said without missing a beat. Sarah raised an eyebrow, letting go of the terminator's hand so the machine could continue to repair herself.

"Find out what went wrong, we need those weapons." They were crucial supplies to outfit a future pocket of the resistance. Derek made no move to leave and Sarah leveled her best glare at him. "Before Judgement Day would be nice."

He pushed up from the table, hands rubbing against the stubbled chin that annoyed Sarah to no end. How the man could assemble any number of weapons blindfolded but couldn't seem to find his way around a razor was beyond her.

"You," Sarah said, turning to her son. "Homework."

"Mom…"

She pointed silently towards his room, giving him no quarter. He might never be able to go to college but Sarah would be damned if he didn't finish high school before the whole world collapsed. He sighed in his usual sullen manner, picking up his plate of pizza pockets and moved into his room.

"Can you fix that?" Sarah turned toward the machine who used a pair of pliers to peel back damaged flesh, inspecting the gear system underneath. "I mean, can you sew yourself up properly with your left hand?"

"I'm programmed to function with equal dexterity in either hand." Cameron's eyes squinted in an oddly human manner, as if that would bring the intricate components of her hand into sharper focus. It was disconcerting that the machine would affect such a trivial mannerism when Cameron saw better than any human or machine currently in existence. "You sustained injury to your leg, would you like me to clean your wounds?"

"No." Sarah shook her head, oddly fascinated with the machine as she worked on her hand. "You just worry about fixing yourself up, girlie." Limping out of the kitchen, Sarah headed for the washroom to get the first aid kit. "And come up with a good story for school," Sarah added as an after thought before she closed the door.

Peeling her pants from her body, Sarah sucked in a breath as she took off a layer of crusted blood, opening the wound anew. She had landed on an unfortunate patch of gravel when Cameron pushed her down. A piece of debris had cut deep into the side of her knee. The world had gone white for one intense moment before training took over and pushed her into action.

Sarah looked down at the injury, the greenish hue of the fluorescent lights reflecting off a shard in her leg. No wonder it hurt so badly to step down on the clutch. Sitting on the edge of the tub, Sarah used the showerhead to clean the wound before she began the tedious task of pulling the gravel out of her skin. God only knew what type of germs were crawling over that warehouse floor.

It was the better part of an hour before the worst had been cleared out. Sarah was nearly cross eyed as she used the tweezers to extract the final gravel pieces, one by one. She had only a few pebbles left before she would tackle the shard that had lodged itself just under her knee cap. Trying to remove the shard earlier nearly sent her into apoplexy as the shard shifted and rubbed against the back of her knee cap. She'd hoped her body's natural defense system would numb her before she tried again. No such luck, Sarah thought bitterly. The last pebble made a quiet 'tink' as it hit the bottom of the bathtub and Sarah steeled herself for the next step.

Twice, the tweezers slid off the rock shard. Each time made Sarah feel as if her stomach would revolt and take the rest of her body with it. Finally, she took a firm grip, leaning down on her leg to resist the urge to buck under her own painful ministrations. Sweat dripped into her eyes as she inched the shard out of her flesh. A blinding moment as rough rock slid against bone, a wave of nausea buffeting her and then the world around Sarah went dark.

She hurt. That was nothing new. When you spent half your life running from and training for terminators, pain was a steady companion. Still, it never struck Sarah as a good thing to wake up to her head pounding out the cadence of her heartbeat. Cold tile under her bare legs, shoulders resting against something soft and… lime green. Her bath mat.

She had made it home. That was something. She closed her eyes against the painful fluorescent lights, searching her muddled memory for the cause of her current predicament. She was fairly certain it had to do with the sharp pain that was sending shocks along her nervous system, the epicenter being her left knee. Warehouse. Guns. Cameron.

The soft snick heralded the opening door and Sarah adjusted her head to look at the person who had entered. She was unsurprised to find the slim lines of the young terminator whose programmed protective streak ran a mile wide.

"Are you injured?"

"Only my pride," Sarah said sullenly, pushing herself into something resembling a sitting position. Rubbing at the back of her head, Sarah sucked in a sharp breath as her hand came across a nicely developing goose egg from where her skull had hit the tile. Perfect.

"Do you require assistance?"

Sarah shook her head, pushing herself away from the tub with her good leg to let her damaged leg drop to the floor. Blood seeped sluggishly from the wound, the red puddle on the floor a stark contrast to bone white tile.

"I can remove the object from your wound," Cameron suggested, kneeling next to Sarah. Taking a surprisingly gentle grip of Sarah's leg, Cameron turned it slightly to better see the wound. "Tweezers?" Sarah fumbled on the floor, eventually producing the offending metal tool. "Please do not move."

"Just get on with it, Girlie," Sarah muttered, closing her eyes as she waited for the pain to come. Cameron didn't disappoint, the gentle hand on Sarah's knee unable to ward off the searing bolt that lanced through her brain and drove her into the darkness once more.

Sarah awoke to a gentle shove on her shoulder. The light shove was followed shortly by less gentle, more insistent shoves. She opened her eyes, checking to see that she was indeed still on the floor. Cameron was looking at her with something akin to worry in soft brown eyes. Sarah shook her head. Certainly the momentary blip had been more about a budding concussion than Cameron actually emoting. When her reeling head caught up with her body and Sarah looked again, the ghost of whatever she had seen in Cameron's eyes was gone.

"You've been unconscious for fifty five seconds, should I alert John?"

"No, I'm fine." Sarah's eyes focused on the tweezers in Cameron's hand. A two inch sliver of rock was held tightly in the tines, minute pieces of flesh doggedly hanging from the jagged edges. It was a wonder she had managed to walk out of the warehouse. "Are you going to get off me so I can sew this up before I bleed to death?" Sarah looked pointedly at the heavy hand that was resting on her chest to keep her from moving. Cameron blinked, as if surprised to still find her hand in place and quickly reclaimed it.

"I can sew," Cameron offered, dropping the tweezers and sliver into the sink. Sarah found herself too tired to argue as Cameron helped her up and positioned her on the edge of the tub. "You should drink, you've lost blood."

A cup of water was grudgingly accepted. It was odd to think she, Sarah Connor, mother of the saviour of mankind, was allowing herself to be cared for by a terminator.

Sarah took a deep gulp of water, leaning her head against the wall as she watched through half lidded eyes while Cameron threaded the needle. Cameron's own injury was neatly wrapped with gauze and the terminator, seeming to sense Sarah's gaze, held up the wounded appendage for inspection.

"Come up with a decent story yet?" Sarah asked, more to fill the silence than any real desire to know. It was strange. With most people she preferred silence, the illusion of peace. With the terminator, it was different. Sarah sometimes needed to hear Cameron's voice, if only to reassure herself that the machine wasn't skulking around somewhere she shouldn't be or killing off anyone she deemed threatening.

"I fell while skateboarding," Cameron said as she pushed the needle through torn skin. Sarah flinched for a split second before forcing her body to relax. Tensing would only make it worse.

"So you skateboard do you?"

"For the purpose of explaining my injury I do."

"Fair enough." Sarah took another sip of water. She was beginning to feel nauseated as she watched the methodical stitching technique of the terminator. She was glad for Cameron's efficiency. Cameron snipped the thread from the needle, tying it neatly before giving the wound a final wipe down and bandaging. It was as Cameron picked up her leg to better set the bandage that Sarah became distinctly aware that she was sitting half naked in front of the terminator.

The vague sense of discomfort that followed this realization was nothing short of foolish in Sarah's opinion. Cameron was a machine. The concept of nudity was abstract to her. Sarah was fairly certain Cameron only wore clothes because it enabled her to blend in. If the terminator had found her and John at a nudist colony, Sarah had no doubt the machine would be running around commando.

Still, it seemed somehow wrong to be sitting in a bathroom, without pants, while the machine posing as her daughter held her bare leg in what would appear to most as quite an intimate manner. To derail her mind from the disturbing track it seemed to have set itself on, Sarah took another slug of water, desperately wishing it was a cup of something stronger.

"I'm sorry."

The surprised guffaw that followed the unexpected apology very nearly had Cameron enjoying an impromptu shower of lukewarm tap water.

"You're what?" Sarah asked incredulously, wondering if she had cracked her head on the tile a little harder than she realized.

"I'm sorry for causing you injury. I meant to keep you from harm, not cause it," Cameron said, carefully wrapping gauze around the bandage to hold it in place.

"You're apologizing? To me?"

The terminator looked directly into her eyes as though it didn't understand why Sarah was surprised.

"John said when you've done something wrong, you apologize to the person. My actions inflicted injury upon you, it's appropriate that I direct my apology to you."

"Machines don't apologize," Sarah countered, her shock preventing her from processing Cameron's logic. She knew this was part of Cameron's programming, the ability to adapt more readily and seamlessly than other models. Where most terminators could be easily spotted through their aloof air and near mechanical movements, Cameron -save for a few spotty pop culture deficiencies- was nearly indistinguishable from the young woman she pretended to be.

For her part, Cameron seemed to be processing what Sarah had said. "That is an incorrect conclusion. I am a machine, I apologized, thus machines apologize." Cameron leaned forward, pursing her lips together as if expecting something from Sarah.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"I have heard after an apology we 'kiss and make up'," Cameron said, pursing her lips once more. Of all the terminators at his disposal, John had managed to team her up with the only one who watched TV. At least she knew her son kept his sense of humour in the future. Despite herself, a small smile tugged at the edges of Sarah's mouth.

"Cameron, that's just an expression. It means that after you apologize you become friends again." Sarah watched in hidden bemusement as the terminator pulled back. Cameron adopted her usual, slightly disgruntled look that always crossed her face when she was reprocessing information to correct her database.

"Thank you for explaining."

Sarah nodded, watching as Cameron stood and cleaned up the detritus from their first aid session.

"Are we friends?" Cameron asked, looking over at Sarah.

"You're a machine," Sarah answered without thought, gaze finding the doe like eyes of the terminator. She thought she saw a flash of… something in Cameron's eyes at her statement. The young woman paused for a moment, as if waiting for Sarah to say something beyond the simple declaration before she turned to leave the bathroom. Sarah sighed. The past sixteen years had made her hard. It was easy to forget what it was to be the person on the other side, looking for approval. Cameron may not be human but the terminator hadn't done anything to earn the stinging rebuke of her apology. She was trying. And, Sarah thought, even a rabid guard dog deserved a pat on the head every once in awhile.

"Cameron," Sarah called out. The terminator paused and turned. "You don't need to apologize. You did the right thing, you saved my life today." Sarah eyes locked on to deep pools of brown, trying to forget what was hidden behind them. "Thank you." Sarah couldn't be certain -and would never admit it if asked- but she could have sworn she had seen a ghost of smile on the terminator's attractive face.

"You're welcome."

"I need a new laptop," John said, three days later as they wandered through the large mall.

Sarah rolled her eyes at her son. For someone who should be focused on stopping the seemingly unbreakable tide of technology, he seemed awfully intent on always having the most revved up piece of machinery he could find.

"No." Sarah braced herself for an argument with a boy who was getting more headstrong by the day. She knew it was good. Humanity wouldn't be saved by a man who rolled over every time he was faced with an obstacle. Sarah was willing to admit that a strong will was necessary for the future John to be able to stand toe to toe with a mechanical army. However, now, when she found herself faced with a boy who would never just let things be, she wished he wouldn't have to constantly test his will against hers.

'You're the best fighter he knows.'

Cameron's words came unbidden to her mind. Perhaps John tested himself against her because he thought, if he could withstand her, he couldn't be beaten. How Sarah wished, deep in the pit of her soul, that it were true. That she would be the highest standard of all the enemies that her son would face.

"Mom? You're not hearing a word I'm saying," John accused. Sarah pulled herself from her thoughts and looked over at her son.

"I'm listening, you want a faster processor."

He _did _need a new laptop. His last hacking adventure had overheated the unit to the point where even Cameron had thought it on the verge of combusting. "If you bring the Feds down on us for downloading music, John Connor, I'll have Cameron spank you," Sarah threatened, ruffling a hand through his shaggy hair.

"Nice imagery." He took the cash Sarah offered and headed toward the electronic store.

"Back here in an hour," Sarah called out as he disappeared into the throng of people. She looked around at the busy shops, marveling, as she often did, that in a few short years, it would likely be rubble. Shaking off the dark cloud, Sarah detoured into a music store, hoping to find something decent to listen to while she cleaned her weapons.

"We're back," John called out as they entered the house. Sarah dropped her bags onto the counter, looking over at the kitchen table where Derek and Cameron seemed dead locked in a staring contest.

"She's a machine, she doesn't need to blink. You lose," Sarah reminded as she leaned between the two of them to drop a loaf of bread onto the table.

"She was rifling around in your room," Derek said without taking his eyes off the terminator. Cameron seemed as uninterested in him as it was possible to be without ignoring his existence completely.

There was the familiar twitch of fear that something had gone wrong with the machine's reprogramming before Sarah's common sense kicked in.

If Cameron was malfunctioning, they wouldn't have come back to find the terminator and Derek in a harmless pissing contest. They would have found pieces of Derek strewn across the house and likely been dead before they knew what happened. That being said, Sarah did want an explanation as to what Cameron had been doing in her room.

"Cameron?"

The terminator held out her hand, opening her fingers to reveal a small mouse who shook fearfully in her palm. Sarah raised an eyebrow. Hadn't it just been this morning when she had mentioned to John that the chewings of the rodent had kept her up to all hours? Not that Sarah really slept but being kept from potential sleep by the sound of small teeth gnashing at drywall wasn't how she wanted to spend her night.

"You caught the mouse in my room?" Sarah asked, her voice tinged with surprise. She turned to John, her gaze accusatory. They had better uses for Cameron than as a glorified rat trap.

"Don't look at me. I didn't tell her to do it," he defended, holding his hands up.

Cameron closed her hand around the small animal, leaving only enough room for a whiskered nose to sniff nervously at the air. The machine would kill or let someone be killed without pause and yet here she was holding gently to a mouse.

"Can I keep it?"

If Sarah had been surprised by the gesture of Cameron catching the mouse, she found herself equally surprised that the terminator now wanted to care for another creature. Still, Cameron had few outlets. Sarah didn't know if machines needed outlets, but just in case, it was prudent to allow her some freedoms. Besides, Cameron had caught it for her for whatever reason.

"Keep the cage clean and don't let it run around the house," Sarah said. "Take John and go to the pet store to get supplies for…it." Sarah held up the car keys for either of them to take. Cameron kept her prize cradled gently in her hand as she took the keys and headed out the door. John said nothing as he followed the machine girl out of the house, his confusion evident in his expression.

"So, now your pet has a pet," Derek said, looking at Sarah with an expression she couldn't read and wasn't certain she wanted to read it if she could. Sarah ignored the comment, pulling turkey from the grocery bag along with other fixings for John's lunches. "You can't keep thinking that it's safe to let that thing roam around like that, alone, with John."

"John sent Cameron back," Sarah argued. "He trusts her."

"Even Connorss are known to be wrong." Derek stood, picking up his beer bottle and brushing past her as he headed for the living room. Finishing with the groceries, Sarah took her prizes from the day to her bedroom. Aside from the occasional snort from the man in her living room, quiet descended on the house. No soft footfalls of Cameron patrolling the halls. No over spill from John's. No mouse skittering around her floorboards. Sarah fell into bed, tucking her hand beneath her pillow, fingers loosening around the pistol.

Silence.

"Mom, mom."

Sarah Connor yawned widely, turning over to see John holding a pizza box in hand.

"We got supper, you hungry?"

She shook her head but pushed herself off the bed at any rate, there were better things to be done with the day than sleep. Hopefully tonight she could eke out her usual couple of hours. Nightmare free would be nice but all things considered, she would settle for something less than totally apocalyptic.

Taking the CD she had bought, Sarah found herself outside Cameron's room. The slim lines of the machine moved gracefully as Cameron set up the cage. Sarah walked into the room, giving a slight smile as Cameron turned and presented her with a plastic cage.

"The wheel will provide him with exercise," Cameron explained, giving said wheel a light flick to make it turn. Nodding, Sarah watched Cameron set the cage on her dresser top and gently gather the mouse from the coffee can it had been stored in.

"Does he have a name?" Sarah asked, intrigued by the terminator's behaviour. The second terminator, the one who had protected her and John two years ago, had taken care of them. But it hadn't cared for them, nor had it cared for anything else. It had been a mind focused on its mission. Even if it had evolved to understand emotion by the end of its life time, it hadn't had time enough to apply its knowledge. It seemed, perhaps, Cameron had. The evidence seemed to be pointing towards Cameron evolving into something that was more than machine. Not human. Not even close at this point, but definitely something beyond the cold logic of a machine on a mission.

"John said I should name it. I don't have an appropriate name." Cameron looked intently at her pet as though if she stared at it hard enough, it would tell her what his name was.

"It'll come to you." Sarah smiled as she remembered John's first pet. A scruffy dog, a local stray in one of the many South American villages they had found themselves in. It followed John as though it were his shadow for nearly six months until Sarah forced them on the move again. She hadn't allowed the dog to accompany them and John hadn't spoken to her for nearly two weeks afterward.

"Here." Sarah handed Cameron a CD of 'The Nutcracker'. It had caught her eye in the discount bin while she had been looking through the stacks at the music store. Cameron looked at her strangely as Sarah held the disc out to her. "I know you… liked the ballet." Sarah faltered on the words, uncomfortable using an emotional term for Cameron's curiosity. "This was…"

"One of John's favourites. You took him to see dancers on ice, six months before you were captured and taken to Pescadero," Cameron said. Sarah looked at the young woman with surprise. "John and I talk a lot." Sarah wasn't sure if she was comfortable with that level of… intimacy between a terminator and her son. "Not your John," Cameron clarified as she walked over to her CD player and turned on the music.

"No. Not my John." Sarah wondered if it was John's time with Cameron now that would make him so open with what would, oddly enough, be the 'younger' Cameron in the future. Perhaps he would put so much trust in her in the future because they would have gone through so much together in the past. She shook her head. Time travel. Paradoxes. It all made her want to scream.

Sarah watched with fascination as Cameron seemed to transform her movements -already incredibly fluid for hundreds of pounds of metal trapped in such a small body- into something that was almost feline in grace. It wasn't that the terminator was dancing, not so much as a foot was tapping, but the way she walked away from the CD player was reminiscent of the way the ice dancers had glided along the surface all those years ago.

"Thank you," Cameron said as she sat on the edge of her bed, watching her new pet play on his wheel as the first song from the Nutcracker filled the small room. Nodding, Sarah left the machine to her own devices and headed for the kitchen. She needed coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

*Author's Note: It obviously goes without saying but I don't own anything... except some rugby gear and a particularly needy Yorkshire Terrier. Many thanks for the great reviews. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated. Enjoy. *

Arming Pasadena: Part Two

"Turns out Edwards isn't as reliable as I thought," Derek said, three days later as they sat eating pancakes. Sarah raised an eyebrow but managed to restrain herself from saying 'no shit'.

"We did not betray ourselves to the police. The only logical conclusion for their arrival at the warehouse was that your source was providing information to the local department," Cameron said, looking across the table at the eldest Reese brother.

Sarah cleared her throat. That was quite possibly the most polite 'no shit' she had ever come into contact with. She knew it was foolish to think it -terminators didn't have emotions- but Sarah had the distinct impression that Cameron didn't like Derek. The feeling, if one assumed it existed, was obviously quite mutual.

"He's keeping the weapons he was supposed to sell us in a storehouse in the desert. The place'll be a fortress," Derek said. "I say we move on and find another source."

"No." Sarah shook her head. "We need those weapons for the Battle of Pasadena."

The Battle of Pasadena, so named because of the staggering number of former Pasadena residents involved in the work camp rebellion, would be one of John's first victories over the machines. To be able to arm the human combatants and give them a leg up against their mechanical captors would further solidify John's place as a leader of men.

"We'll find them somewhere else," Derek argued.

"He has the largest cache of weapons available in the area. If we're going to begin stockpiling for future Resistance fighters, we will need to acquire his supply. Bringing large gun shipments into the country risks alerting the Federal Bureau of Investigation." Cameron looked at Sarah as she spoke but her words were directed to Derek. Sarah nodded her agreement.

"The last thing we need is a bunch of Feds sniffing around. We have enough trouble keeping ahead of Ellison," Sarah said. "John, see if you can pull up any floor plans for that warehouse. We can scout it out, check for weak points."

"Why wouldn't they have just sold us the weapons? Why call the cops?" Derek asked.

"He mentioned there was someone else interested, maybe we were outbid." Sarah looked over at the clock on the stove. "You're going to be late for school. Get a move on," she instructed, to both John and Cameron.

"I have to feed Crackers." Taking a carrot stick from the pile Sarah had cut for lunch, Cameron walked to her room.

"Crackers?" Sarah asked John who shrugged before shoving his lunch into the depths of his backpack.

"Something do to with the CD you gave her." With that, he was out the door, a pilfered box of milk in one hand and his backpack in the other. The door closed with a quiet 'snick' and Derek turned to her.

"You gave it a present?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, not wanting to get into yet another argument over how she was too familiar with Cameron. She knew that she was being more... aware of the machine than previous. The terminator had begun merely as a tool, a means to keep her son safe. As their odd little family evolved, Sarah couldn't help but feel that Cameron was evolving with it.

It was becoming difficult to think of Cameron solely as a machine, a tool. She was something…more. If not human, than still a being in her own right. One who seemed to be developing a personality that went beyond whatever rudimentary programming she had been given.

"I gave Cameron something to listen to. She was playing the same CD over again, it was driving me nuts." Sarah picked up the dishes, tossing them into an already full sink. "Cameron, you're going to be late." Sarah raised her voice though she knew the terminator would have heard a whisper. The machine walked out of her room, bag slung over her shoulder. She bypassed Derek without a word, nodding her goodbye to Sarah before heading out to the truck.

"So what's next? You going to throw it a birthday party?" Derek asked, unwilling to let the topic die.

"Look, she's been an incredible asset to us. She likes music, there was a CD in the discount bin. Let's not make this a federal case."

"Are you listening to yourself? She 'likes music'? It's an infiltrator, you know that right? This is its job. Getting close, making you think you're safe. 'Sometimes they go bad, no one knows why', Cameron told me that. How can you be sure the metal isn't just biding its time?"

"Because that's not how they operate," Sarah said, voice filled with exasperation. "If Cameron went bad, she wouldn't bother with subterfuge. She would just open fire. And, as a point you may want to consider, you would probably be the first person she mowed down."

Derek eyed her coldly. "If that's what it takes for John to stop trusting a machine, that's not such a bad thing. I don't really want to live through Judgment Day again anyway."

"Keep pissing me off and that's not something you'll have to worry about," Sarah warned, turning her attention to the dishes and let the silence hang between them.

Sarah woke suddenly, uncertain what had caused her to be pulled from sleep but certain there was a specific source. Hand closing around the pistol under her pillow, her senses reached out for anything out of the ordinary.

Nothing.

Nothing save the noise of Crackers on his wheel at any rate. She rubbed her face, letting bare feet fall to the floor as she pushed the covers from her body. Hand still gripping her gun, she walked from the room. A quick peek in John's room assured that he was still present and breathing. Satisfied, she walked into the kitchen, hand coming up to her heart to see Cameron sitting, unmoving, in the kitchen chair, staring blankly into space.

"Something wrong?" Sarah asked tiredly as she sat in the chair opposite Cameron, resting the pistol on the dented Formica table.

"Perimeter is clear. There is no movement outside," Cameron answered.

"Yeah, that I knew. You're not out there killing anything. I meant is something wrong with you? Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

"I don't sleep."

Sarah sighed. She knew there was a reason behind Cameron's current sitting situation but getting information out of the terminator was usually an exercise in patience. Cameron forced Sarah to think much more literally. Sarah had once said it was 'raining cats and dogs' and the terminator had gone to the window seeming somehow disappointed when she discovered that there were no animals plummeting from the sky.

"Okay… why are you sitting in the kitchen instead of in your room or watching television or... something?" Sarah asked, hiding a yawn behind her hand as she looked over at Cameron.

"I did not want to disturb anyone. It 'creeps' Derek Reese out when I sit in my room. Did Crackers wake you? I can remove his wheel."

Sarah waved off the suggestion. "No, it's fine. I don't know what happened, just couldn't sleep any more I guess."

"You should drink warm milk."

Sarah raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"I saw it on TV, it was used as a method to aid young children sleeping. Sometimes there is whiskey in it."

"Um, I think I'll be alright. I'm going to go over the plans for the attack on the warehouse."

"You have analyzed the plan repeatedly, are there factors that concern you?"

"There's always a concern when I'm running into a gunfight." Sarah reached over to the island countertop and pulled the dossier with their intended target to the table. "We need to make sure this goes right. The warehouse runs off its own power grid. John and Derek will take down the lines into the building to cut out their power. We…"

"…will be in position here." Cameron pointed to a small cliff some hundred metres away from the warehouse which gave them a good line of sight on both the first and second floors of the building. "We will disable the sentries. John and Derek will draw the others out of the warehouse while we steal a transport truck and move the weaponry. It is a simple plan. We have numerous escape options and I calculate our probability of success at nearly eighty percent."

"I know that." She'd heard a similar speech after dinner when they had been finalizing the plans. "I just, I don't know." Sarah shook her head and pushed the files to the side. "Something just doesn't feel right."

Cameron looked at her blankly, her universal signal that something didn't compute.

"There's something going on here that we're not seeing, I'm certain of it. I have no physical evidence for it, I just… know."

"Gut instinct?"

Sarah nodded.

"John, my John, often acts on what he calls 'gut instinct'. I understand now, thank you for explaining."

"Yeah, sure." Sarah stood. "Listen, if things go wrong tomorrow, you know what to do."

"My mission is to protect John Connor. I will escort him to safety."

"Good. All right, Girlie, I'm going to try to get another hour of sleep in before the sun comes up. Don't let Derek push you around. If you want to sit in your room, go sit." Picking up her pistol, Sarah headed out of the kitchen.

A few minutes later -as she slowly drifted towards unconsciousness- she heard the soft click of a door and the low melody as the Nutcracker played on.

"John and Derek Reese have nearly completed their task," Cameron said, using her rifle scope to look miles in the distance. Sarah nodded to show she had heard, squinting her eyes against the hot, Southern California sun. She was half cooked, lying there on the blistering sand, waiting for John and Derek to dig through to the power cable and cut in.

Cameron, ever the picture of mechanical perfection, didn't sweat a drop while Sarah felt as though she didn't have enough water left in her body to spit the sand out of her mouth. Seeming to sense her discomfort, Cameron wordlessly reached into the pouch on her pants, producing a small canteen. Sarah took a long slug of water, wetting down the bandana on her neck to help keep her cool.

"These temperatures are beyond the recommended levels for human operation. You should not exceed twenty minutes in these conditions."

"Here's hoping John digs faster then." Sarah used her binoculars to get a line of sight on the sentries outside the warehouse. "I'm going to assume you have their patterns memorized." Sarah said looked over at the terminator who had her rifle tucked tightly to her shoulder. The dulled metal wouldn't give off a sheen to alert anyone of their position and the large scope had been covered again until the moment of attack.

"Yes."

Two men on the catwalk of the second floor patrolled the outer perimeter. Three more were at the main bay door with a sixth in a guard shack at the outer edge of the facility. John and Derek would be storming the gates, hopefully causing enough of a distraction for Sarah and Cameron to get inside.

"One, two." Sarah swept her eyes over the targets, "three, four, five," and turned toward the guard shack. "Six."

"Seven, eight, nine," Cameron completed, using her hand to indicate three men who were playing cards on top of a large crate inside the building.

"Damn. There's never been more than six men on a shift." Sarah scanned each warehouse window to check for more occupants. "Something is going on."

"Truck." At Cameron's words, Sarah looked into the distance where a large transport vehicle tore down the dirt road, kicking up dust as it went. "They are selling the weapons."

"Hence the extra security. Damn it. How long do we have?"

"At the current rate of speed, I estimate nine minutes and thirty four seconds until their arrival."

"Come on, John. Move it," Sarah muttered.

"We should abort the mission," Cameron advised. "There are an unknown number of enemy. The probability of success has decreased exponentially with the current variables."

"No shit, Tin Man. Only one problem, no cell signal. We can't warn John or Derek and they're on their way in. We stick with the plan. Take out the sentries. When that truck pulls in, you put it down. I don't want John and Derek running into an ambush." Sarah checked her shotgun for readiness as well as the AK-47 she had strapped to her back. Her pistol was nestled tightly in her leg holster, she was as good as she was going to get.

"Where are you going?"

"Down there. Once the fighting starts, I might be able to slip past the guards." A rocky, switchback road cut down the cliff face to the warehouse below. A good mile.

"I should make the approach. I run faster and I am able to take more damage."

"You're also a better shot with faster reflexes, I need you up here covering the others. Don't argue with me, Girlie. How long now?"

"Eight minutes, twenty seven seconds."

Sarah pushed herself back from the edge of the cliff face and stood up. A mile in the desert sun with thirty pounds of gear. This was going to be fun.

"Protect John, no matter what." Sarah knew she didn't have to remind Cameron. She was perhaps reminding herself more. Even if the worst happened, she wouldn't be leaving her son alone, to fend for himself against the machines and the oncoming apocalypse. Cameron looked away from the warehouse, staring into Sarah's eyes.

"Swear," the terminator promised.

With that, Sarah began to run.

Sarah was on the last switchback to the warehouse when the first shots fired. The two men on the catwalk cried out and flipped over the guard rail, falling to the dirt below. She readied the shotgun as she ran. This was the most dangerous part of the attack. She was fully exposed as she came down the short path.

The original plan had been to have Cameron go down first and eliminate any hostiles.

So much for that.

The other sentries, quick to move out of Cameron's line of fire, tore around the corner of the warehouse coming face to face with Sarah. She moved without thought, bringing the large weapon up and firing two rounds. She hit her first target in the chest. The kickback was powerful enough to throw off her next shot and she merely grazed the second sentry. Sarah dove for the dirt, rolling to the side and firing a third round that caught the man at the knees.

Ten metres from the nearest entrance, with no real cover to speak of.

"Damn." Crouching low, Sarah sprinted for the back door. She was disappointed but not surprised to see it open, three men pouring out to take her on. She cut to the side, heading for the front of the building where Cameron would hopefully have cleared the other gunmen. Shots pierced the air, whiffling in the sand as they connected with the ground at her feet. The snap of a sniper rifle and the transport truck ahead of her stopped in its tracks. Cameron's attention was focused on the truck, Sarah was on her own.

She passed a window and threw herself to the side, crashing through the glass just as a stream of automatic gunfire tore up the ground where she had been standing. She landed hard on the cement floor, steeling herself against the urge to cry out as sharp shards cut deep into her side. Sarah pushed herself to her feet, clamping a hand over her wound so she wouldn't leave a blood trail to follow as she searched for somewhere to take cover.

A stack of crates proved to be her only refuge and she crouched low, loading three more shells into the shotgun before switching it for the AK-47. She needed a rapid fire weapon if she was going to face off against these guys. Bootsteps echoed as they searched the area and Sarah waited until they were nearly on top of her before she pounced.

As one man came around the corner of the crate, Sarah moved herself to the other side coming up quietly behind the man. She pulled the trigger wincing as a spray of blood caught her across the chest. The gunfire alerted the others to her position and she was forced to duck down to avoid their return fire. They were closing in on her from both sides, she was trapped.

Panic clawed at her, a deep fear for what was to come. Sarah knew the feeling well. She experienced it every time she was reminded of why she was here. Who her son was going to be. She marshaled it, as she always did, changed it into something she could use. Anger. Rage at the situation, the people that had forced her into what her life was now.

Diving away from her crate, Sarah slid along the concrete floor to come to a stop at the foot of a gunman. She fired, hitting him in the sternum, his limp body thrown backward by the force of the gunshots. His gun hit the deck with a loud clatter, the easily discharged weapon firing as it bounced along the ground.

"Shit." Sarah curled into a tight ball, getting her head out of the line of fire of the wild weapon. She winced as shards of wood exploded around her. Not waiting for the final gunmen to come to her, Sarah crawled along the floor, pushing herself to her feet to get a bead on the last man standing.

Her sight focused on him just as his finger tightened on the trigger, his gun leveled at her head.

_Damn it. Too slow, Connor. Too slow._


	3. Chapter 3

***Author's Note: Not mine. No profits are being made. Suing will only get you an outdated computer and a pair of badly abused rugby cleats. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated. Enjoy.**

_Not waiting for the final gunmen to come to her, Sarah crawled along the floor, pushing herself to her feet to get a bead on the last man standing._

_Her sight focused on him just as his finger tightened on the trigger, his gun leveled at her head._

_Damn it. Too slow, Connor. Too slow._

It was like moving through quicksand, the empty air sucked and dragged at her feet as Sarah forced her body to the floor. She accepted she wouldn't make it to cover just as the man's head exploded in front of her. She looked out the window to see the flash of sunlight on glass as Cameron readjusted her weapon and fired out into the desert once more. The clunking of boots overhead gave away another sentry's position. Sarah's gaze shot up, her gun following her line of sight. Her hands acted on years of training as they pulled the trigger, easily putting the last sentry down.

Thus sorted, Sarah pushed herself quickly to her feet. She opened up the rear door of the large transport truck before heading for the forklift to move the crates into the back while Cameron secured the perimeter.

Sarah had loaded the second crate on the truck when Cameron strolled confidently through the doorway. Carrying her large sniper rifle in one hand and dragging a man behind her with the other, Cameron came to a halt beside Sarah.

"Cameron... what the hell?"

"He is the leader. You wanted information." Dropping his leg, Cameron moved off to load the crates.

Sarah couldn't argue with that. She stepped off the forklift and walked to the man, giving him a sharp kick in the kidney to rouse him. Moaning, he rolled over, mud brown eyes widening in surprise.

"Hello, Edwards. Remember me?" Sarah took her pistol from its holster and put it against his knee. "Why did our deal go South? Money wasn't green enough for you? Or there just wasn't enough of it?"

He pursed his lips, eyes moving between Sarah's face and the gun tucked tightly against his leg. Despite the obvious anxiety in his eyes, he remained silent.

"Fine. What about the guys in the truck? Who the hell were they?"

Panic gave way to genuine confusion. "What truck?"

Picking him up by his shirt collar, Sarah shoved the gun into the base of his skull and walked him to the window. She pointed to the badly battered truck that sat mere metres from the former guard shack.

"That truck."

"I don't know who they are. We don't ever bring people here for pick-up. This is one of our main storehouses, I'm not stupid."

Sarah shook her head, that was a point to be argued later. Checking out the window, Sarah squinted in the bright light. It was funny, the way the heat reflected off the sand, she could have sworn she saw something move.

"Wait." She had seen something move. A man pushed open the truck door and lumbered towards the them. Cameron had missed one.

Sarah struck Edwards across the back of the head, knocking him out before she reclaimed her shotgun. She took aim at the man outside, unwilling to leave any loose ends, she fired. Her shot hit him square in the chest and he dropped to the ground in a puff of dust.

Satisfied, Sarah looked down at Edwards. He still had his uses. If he knew of other storehouses, they could set up more points of defense for Judgement Day. Her peripheral vision caught motion and Sarah turned her attention back to the desert where the man was recovering himself. No emotion. No stagger. He simply sat up and pushed himself to his feet.

Oh. Shit.

"Cameron!" Sarah pumped the remainder of her rounds into the walking form. Now that he was prepared, the rounds did little more than expose the metal endoskeleton beneath his skin.

Cameron approached, displaying neither surprise nor concern as one of her fellow machines bore down on them. She used her rifle to take careful aim, landing a shot in the head that slowed but did not stop the other machine.

"The truck is loaded, go." Cameron advised as she made to step out into the desert sun. Sarah grabbed on to the machine's wrist, stopping her from moving forward.

"Let's go, Girlie. I'm not going to lose you over this. He's here for the guns, not us." She couldn't risk losing her son's best protector to a machine and a secondary mission. Cameron didn't argue, merely nodded and followed Sarah as she ran for the truck. The machine paused for a brief moment before turning to pump a slew of rounds into Edwards.

No loose ends.

Big engine roaring, they gunned it out of the warehouse, taking the corner to the guard shack at break neck speed.

"John and Derek are approximately three kilometres out and approaching," Cameron said as they wove around the terminator and past the guard shack. "The Triple Eight is not in pursuit."

"There's something in that warehouse he wants," Sarah reasoned. She glanced back at her side mirror, the image of the machine man walking to the building reflecting back at her. "What's left in there?"

"C-4, diesel, gasoline, AK-47's."

Sarah slammed on the brakes. "Why isn't all of that in the back of the truck?"

"We already have double the maximum recommended weight for the vehicle. We have sufficient armaments to supply the soldiers for the Battle of Pasadena."

"Are there rocket launchers back there?" Sarah asked, opening the flap to look in the back of the truck.

"Yes."

"Now that sounds like a party." Crawling into the back, Sarah unlocked the rear gate. Cameron climbed in with her, easily ripping the top off a crate of RPGs. "I'll back us up to firing range." Sarah's words were lost on Cameron who had already broken into a machine enhanced sprint, the large weapon resting comfortably on a slight shoulder.

A barely audible "firing now", preceded the whistle of the weapon and Hell opened up before them. A fireball the length of a football field shot into the air, sucking the breath from Sarah's lungs. The blowback from the explosion rocked against her, the ensuing shockwave lifting her feet off the ground to slam her into the tailgate.

The world fell silent, only for a moment, thought ceasing as her body turned inward to assess the damage. Pain roared in behind the silence, abused ribs rioting inside her chest. She spent a few dazed moments in the sand, collecting her muddled thoughts, before she grabbed onto the tailgate to lift herself up. Hand pressed firmly to a bleeding temple, Sarah wondered who was ringing the bell inside her head.

Sarah stumbled forward, dark gaze taking in the debris scattered across the canyon. No way that had been C-4 and a few gallons of gasoline. There had been something else in that warehouse. At a kilometre away there shouldn't have been that much of an impact. Her thoughts turned to the terminator who had yet to reappear.

"Cameron!" Sarah screamed, hoping to catch glimpse of the young woman walking toward her through the smoky haze. The Jeep pulled up beside her, John and Derek stepping out to survey the damage. Sarah couldn't help but stare with them, hoping to see the graceful movements as Cameron picked her way back to them. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch in the sand. Sarah frowned as an uncomfortable ball settled in the pit of her stomach. She was...worried. About Cameron. What the...

"...hell was in that place?" Derek asked.

"Mom, mom! Are you okay?" John shook her, lightly at first, then with more force. A sense of deja vu washed over her. Cameron had woken her up much the same way not so long ago.

Cameron.

She had to find Cameron. Before the Triple Eight recovered from the explosion. If he got hold of her, she would be killed. Or worse, reprogrammed. She had to get to Cameron.

"Take the guns." Pulling the shotgun from John's hands, Sarah pointed to the truck. "You and Derek get them to where they need to be. I have to get Cameron."

"Chrome dome can take care of herself. She'll make her way back," Derek argued.

"There was a terminator, he was there for something. If he gets Cameron, if he gets her chip..." Sarah left her argument unfinished. They all knew what would happen. Cameron was privy to many of John's secrets, both now and in the future. Her capture would mean disaster for the Resistance.

"I'll go get her," Derek said, his voice a disappointed sigh as he checked his sidearm.

"No. Take John, you know where the weapons need to be. I'll meet you back at the house. If I'm not there by morning, assume the worst."

John looked at her, his worry evident as he scanned her bleeding form.

"Don't you come for me, don't you dare," Sarah warned, taking his head between her hands to stare into his eyes. "You run. Get out of the house and get on the move. I'll find you."

She knew he wanted to argue, wanted to stay. But if he was lost then all they fought for was for naught. Sarah had taught him long ago, no matter what she meant to him, no one was worth the mission.

"Be careful," was all he said as he hauled himself in to the transport truck. Satisfied with that, Sarah limped over to the Jeep, sliding gingerly into the drivers' seat. A quick pop of the clutch and she was speeding towards the last place she had seen Cameron. Once the smoke settled, it wasn't hard to find the terminator. She was about the only thing half standing within a kilometer of the explosion. The machine was attempting to get to her feet, the process hindered by the odd angle of her leg. Sarah's flash of relief was quickly stamped out by the practical difficulties of sorting Cameron out.

"A terminator with a broken leg. This ought to be a riot," Sarah muttered as she stopped the Jeep and grabbed the shotgun. She couldn't be too careful. The last explosion Cameron had encountered messed up her wiring to the point where the machine turned on them. "Cameron?" Sarah leveled the shotgun at the machine. "What is your mission?"

"To protect John Connor and Sarah Connor and to stop the arrival of Judgement Day." Cameron continued to limp toward Sarah. The sand and debris made for uneven footing and Cameron tripped, falling to the ground. Shouldering her weapon, Sarah ran for the downed woman. It was disturbing to see the most powerful of them down in the dirt, struggling. "The Triple Eight was not destroyed. Temperatures of the fire have failed to exceed our melting point."

Sarah looked into the fiery pit that had once been the warehouse, searching for any sign of the other machine.

Nothing.

Small graces.

"Come on, we need to get out of here." Sarah knelt down, draping Cameron's arm over her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around the small body. She pushed up with her legs, groaning at Cameron's unexpected weight. "Jesus Christ, aren't there any metals in the future that don't weigh half a ton?"

"I do not weigh half a ton and other alloys were not of sufficient density to create an appropriate battle chassis. Initial models built of lightweight alloys were more susceptible to heavy arms fire."

"...Of course they were. All right, Tin Miss. Let's get a move on. Your big brother is liable to be pissed after that little firebomb, assuming he's still in one piece." They moved slowly toward the Jeep, the few feet to the passenger door seeming like a football field.

Sarah's boots slid in the sand and more than once she feared they were going to hit the deck. She suspected that having an injured terminator land on her shouldn't be high on her list of things to do. They maneuvered Cameron in to the passenger seat where the terminator promptly braced her lower leg against the frame and twisted it back into place.

"I can complete a more effective repair once we have returned to the house. This will suffice."

Sarah handed Cameron the shotgun before getting into the driver seat. "Any idea what the hell was in there?"

"More than I initially calculated. It was highly explosive."

"Tell me it wasn't nuclear." A sudden sense of panic creeped up Sarah's spine. Was this where the cancer started? Was this where her body betrayed her?

"No. There is a negligible level of radiation, more likely caused by the warhead itself than the contents of the warehouse," Cameron said.

Nodding her quiet acceptance of Cameron's assessment, Sarah threw the Jeep into gear and turned away from the blast site.

"You're injured," Cameron said, long minutes later, as they stopped to turn onto the highway that would take them back to Los Angeles. Sarah looked down at her side, wincing at the torn flesh that comprised her ribcage. She wasn't sure if it was the blood loss or her thirst that made her dizzy to the point of nausea. A hand touched her arm and Sarah turned to Cameron, struggling to focus her eyes.

"Your skin temperature is beyond optimal levels and your saline balance is incorrect. You're severely dehydrated," Cameron said, removing her hand. "I should drive." The terminator didn't wait for an argument, getting out to switch places.

Truth be told, Sarah was too tired to attempt her usual 'I'm fine' act. Sarah waited for Cameron to open her door, surprised to find herself unable to control her body as it slid out of the seat. Cameron easily caught her, carrying her to the back of the vehicle. A quick flick of the rear door and Sarah was seated on the tailgate, Cameron pressing a hand tightly to her side. "I need to administer first aid."

"The terminator might find us..." Sarah argued, losing the fight to keep her eyes open. The adrenaline was starting to wane, her body beginning to alert her as to what exactly it had just been put through.

"It is highly unlikely he is ambulatory given his proximity to the blast. His threat is minimal. You have suffered a concussion. Please remain awake," Cameron requested. The words seem to float to her as though through water. Muted. Echoing. Slow. "Sarah, stay awake."

A grip on her shoulder that tightened to the point of pain forced Sarah to look at the small woman in front of her.

"Remain awake."

Sarah nodded weakly, wondering if it was a consequence of her concussion that Cameron looked almost... worried.

Terminators didn't worry.

"John, you have to find John." Her words came out a near slur as Cameron converted the back of the Jeep to give her a flat surface to lie on. She cried out as the terminator pushed her down, her damaged side protesting any kind of movement. She was going to black out.

"Don't let them take him," Sarah pleaded, wrapping her hand around Cameron's wrist to get her attention. "Don't let them take him."

The terminator looked at her, deep brown eyes seeming to stare through Sarah as her words processed.

"Swear," Cameron promised.

Everything turned black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Not mine, wish they were, etc. etc. You know the drill. Thank you for the lovely feedback so far. As always, comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Enjoy.**

_"Don't let them take him," Sarah pleaded, wrapping her hand around Cameron's wrist to get her attention. "Don't let them take him."_

_The terminator looked at her, deep brown eyes seeming to stare through Sarah as her words processed._

_"Swear," Cameron promised._

_Everything turned black._

"Sarah, drink this."

Her consciousness barely registered the words, let alone pieced together their meaning before cold liquid touched her lips and trickled down her throat. It brought relief as it slid down to her stomach, soothing the dry burn that had taken up permanent residence in her mouth.

"More later," the soft voice advised, "sleep now."

Throat temporarily soothed, wrapped in an odd cocoon of warmth, Sarah didn't fight as she slipped back into the darkness.

"It's time to wake up."

Sarah Connor groaned as a gentle hand brushed through her hair, rousing her from what had felt like the longest uninterrupted sleep that she could recall in the last sixteen years. Her body demanded she stay where she was, curled tightly on her good side with a wall of warmth plastered against her back. She didn't try to fight it, her tired mind didn't even try to process. She simply stayed where she was, eyes closed, willing herself back to sleep.

"Sarah, we need to move. The Triple Eight has had time to recover and may be on the trail. We must continue to Los Angeles."

The Triple Eight. The warehouse. The explosion. They had to move, had to get back to John. Sarah opened her eyes, fighting off the wave of exhaustion that seemed determined to sweep her back into unconsciousness. The hands in her hair continued to massage at her scalp, bringing the pounding headache down to something that bordered on a dull roar.

"Cameron?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, curious where the woman had learned such behaviour and slightly disturbed by how well it was being put to use.

"It was on a television episode. A man woke his wife this way, she seemed comforted," Cameron said. "Is it ineffective? John says I can't believe everything I see on TV."

"It's... very comforting," Sarah admitted grudgingly. She was still disturbed that she could allow a terminator to touch her in such a manner, and worse yet, enjoy it! Never mind Cameron, something in the explosion had knocked a few of her screws loose.

"What time is it?" Sarah asked, determined to get the conversation back into an area that didn't involve her thinking about how human Cameron was becoming. Or, perhaps it was just how much humanity Sarah allowed herself to see in Cameron.

Whatever.

Those kinds of thoughts were liable to bring back her headache at a breakneck pace so the subject was best avoided until her grey matter recovered.

"It is twenty hundred, twenty one. You have been unconscious for nearly six hours."

Despite her body's protest, Sarah pushed herself into a seated position, gingerly touching a hand to her side to inspect the damage.

"Blood loss was extensive but not catastrophic. You will not require blood transfusions. Would you like to remain here while I drive?"

"No thanks, Girlie. I prefer the front seat," Sarah said, looking at her surroundings. The back of the truck was filled with spent gauze, suture kits and a healthy dose of blood stains. The rear door was open, allowing the cool night breeze to wash over them. Without Cameron's heat against her back, even the slight breeze brought goose bumps to her skin and Sarah shivered. Her upper half was bare save for her blood stained bra, her shirt lay in long strips beside a pile of bloody bandages. Cameron followed her gaze.

"I required your shirt for a field dressing until I could locate the first aid kit," Cameron said, as though she needed to defend her actions.

"That's fine, Cameron." Sarah ignored the urge to reach out and squeeze the slight wrist in reassurance. Machines didn't need reassurance.

"You can have my shirt," the terminator offered. Sarah quirked an eyebrow at the burnt and bloody garment that covered her companion.

"That's… all right. We're not the same size," Sarah said. Not that she had to tell Cameron that, the machine probably had her size calculated to the nearest micrometer. She had just been offering to be polite. It was an incredibly... human thing to do.

After all, what were they if not beings created by the absorption and processing of external stimuli? Stimuli that Cameron was becoming increasingly acquainted with. TV. Internet. Social interactions.

One knew how to comfort a child by remembering their own childhood interactions, what had comforted them. Cameron, lacking these types of memories, simply pulled from data she observed in the world at large.

Previous terminators had processed that information on a purely logical basis: 'a' plus 'b' always equalled 'c'. Not Cameron. She seemed interested in -and capable of- learning the delicate intricacies of human interaction. Not just to become a more efficient infiltrator but because she seemed genuinely curious about what made humans tick.

"We should move." Cameron pushed herself out of the Jeep, offering her hand to Sarah. Sarah looked at the hand, burnt gloves covering bloody skin. They were the hands of a machine, an entity capable of killing without pause. Even so, Sarah couldn't deny that they were evolving into so much more.

Sarah wondered if future John knew how special of a machine he had sent back. She thought he must have. That her uniqueness, her quirks, had made Cameron that much better of a choice to give himself and his mother as a protector. She had to trust his judgement, she had taught him well.

Sarah took the offered hand, allowing Cameron to pull her from the vehicle and help her to the front seat.

"You're different than the rest of them aren't you? Not just the way you're built. There's something in your programming, something, I don't know..."

"Neither did John." Cameron pulled the seatbelt across Sarah's body. "I'm an evolutionary model, my full capabilities are unknown." The door closed and Cameron walked to her side of the vehicle.

"Unknown." Sarah looked over at the machine. "I don't know if that makes me feel more comfortable or less," the dark haired woman admitted as they pulled on to the road. "Can you feel? I mean, that Triple Eight that married Barbara, it didn't feel. Did it?"

"It was capable of mimicking basic human emotions for the purpose of its mission. From what I have seen, this is not an uncommon trait in humans."

"Touché." A pause. "What about you? Do you mimic emotions or do you have them? Do you calculate the type of response that would be appropriate to a situation and then choose from your list of preprogrammed options or what?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"I don't know. I can not discern whether my responses are programmed or learned. My internal processors function more quickly than previous models. It is difficult to differentiate between a programmed response and responses that occur due to learned stimuli. The information is processed too quickly."

"So you experience emotions but you're not certain if they're part of your original programming or something that you've learned since coming off the assembly line?" Sarah asked, trying to wrap her head around the conversation.

The machine looked at her, Sarah's confusion mirrored in Cameron's eyes. She really didn't know.

"Let's try another track. Derek Reese, what are your responses?"

Cameron's hands tightened around the wheel. "An increase in external temperature and a higher probability of choosing aggressive responses during our interactions."

"I think we can call that 'dislike'." A smirk tugged at Sarah's lips. "But you've never acted aggressively towards him."

"Alienating Derek Reese risks John's safety and the success of our mission to stop Skynet from being created. Responding aggressively is counter to my mission."

"So you do feel... something. But your programming won't allow you to use your learned responses to countermand your ultimate goals?"

"Correct."

"Hmm."

That was equal parts reassuring and worrisome. Sarah didn't want to voice the concern that immediately popped into her mind at this revelation. What if Cameron evolved beyond that restriction? What if her processors were advanced enough for Cameron to learn how to ignore parts of her base programming?

Would Skynet create a machine that advanced? Would they take the chance of creating a rogue terminator with the capability to well and truly think for herself?

If the last sixteen years had taught Sarah anything, it was that there was no end to the stupidity or arrogance of those who thought they controlled life. Man or machine.

"Are you still uncomfortable?" Cameron's question was almost hesitant as she spoke.

Sarah could see it now. The ghost of emotion in eyes that she had once thought lifeless. Perhaps they had been, in the beginning, before Cameron had begun her evolution in earnest. Now, there were definite signs of someone who went beyond her programming sitting in that body.

"I'm..." Sarah didn't know what she was. It could be an amazing asset. A machine that formed a true bond with her son, a desire to protect him that went beyond a set mission. She wondered if that was why John had sent Cameron back. But the possible ramifications… If Cameron ever went beyond her restrictions, was able to act without regard for the mission, whose side would the machine choose then? "I'm…digesting," Sarah said finally.

"You have not ingested food in nearly twenty hours. The digestion process should be complete."

Sarah couldn't help the sharp bark of laughter that escaped her. Terminators with feelings. Heart to hearts with Cameron. The entire situation was ludicrous.

"Not digesting food. Digesting the information. Contemplating it, processing it," Sarah explained, unable to keep a small smile from shaping her lips.

"Thank you for explaining."

Sarah shook her head as they drove into the night.

"Mom!" John ran down the steps to meet them as Cameron half walked, half carried Sarah towards the house. She was sunburned, exhausted and near delerium with hunger. All she had managed to keep in her stomach was a Twinkie she was certain had been in its plastic vacuum seal since sometime during the Cold War.

"She needs food," Cameron said, walking past him with Sarah at her hip. "She has been unable to ingest solids."

"She's a mess."

"I'm fine and I'm not deaf. Can we get into the house before the neighbors call the police, please?"

John stepped out of the way as Cameron reached under Sarah's legs and picked her up, carrying her easily across the gravel driveway up to the house.

"Way to not to draw attention," John muttered as he followed them inside.

"I'm all right, Cameron. You can put me down," Sarah said once they reached the kitchen. The terminator seemed to hesitate for a moment before acquiescing, setting her in a chair. "Thanks." Sarah leaned heavily against the table, waiting for the nausea to pass. "Did you get the weapons in place?"

"Yup. When the metal heads come at us, they're going to get a nasty surprise. We've got enough in there to gear up a hundred and fifty men," Reese said as he walked into the kitchen.

Sarah's gaze found John. "Good job." She didn't tell him that often enough. Sarah grasped John's hand, squeezing it in a show of pride. He smiled back at her shyly. He was still such a boy in so many ways.

"I'll make you something to eat," he said to break the tender moment. "Soup?"

Sarah nodded her thanks, surprised when a button up shirt, held by a slender hand, appeared in front of her. She took the shirt, giving Cameron a small nod. "Thank you." She pulled the shirt on, intent on hiding not just her skin but her injuries from her son. "You should get cleaned up so John can take a look at the damage."

Quietly obedient, Cameron walked off to her room while John ladled canned soup out of a microwave bowl and into a soup bowl. Cooking 101, Connor style.

"Did that explosion knock something loose?"

"What?" Sarah turned to Reese, somewhat annoyed to be pulled out a rare, peaceful moment.

"The explosion. Something is off with chrome dome. She's acting weird."

"And you can tell this from the thirty seconds we've been back?" Sarah asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I know metal, she's not right."

"You've been singing that song since you got here, Reese. Honestly, it's starting to get on my nerves." Sarah wasn't about to sit and listen to him rip Cameron to shreds after she had spent the night playing nursemaid. "We need to figure out what that Triple Eight was looking for," she said, closing the topic of Cameron and leaving no room for further argument.

"What does it matter? Whatever it is went up with that warehouse."

Sarah spooned soup into her mouth, the broth hitting her stomach in a way that made her think it was liable to make a reappearance if she wasn't careful. "It matters because whatever it wanted made a really big boom. If it's a weapon they're developing, I want to know what it is." Pushing the unfinished soup away, Sarah stood, barely catching the edge of the table as her body threatened to throw her sideways. John was at her back in an instant, supporting her as she headed for her room.

"You okay?"

Nodding weakly, she followed John's gaze to where blood seeped through the fabric of her shirt.

"You should get cleaned up too."

"I'm fine, I just need to lay down. Help Cameron and see what you can find on the truck the Triple Eight was driving. Cameron should have the plate number."

John helped her to the bed where she collapsed, ignoring the sting in her side as she drifted to sleep.

She awoke to the sounds of arguing, one voice loud and angry, the other low and decidedly dispassionate. Something about a rodent and noise. Sarah pushed herself to her feet, stumbling slightly as she crossed the floor.

"Lower the volume of your voice. You will disturb Sarah's recovery."

"This thing is driving me nuts. I'm getting rid of it."

Deciding to interrupt before blood was shed, Sarah opened the door to find Reese in the hallway, Crackers' cage in hand. A bandaged Cameron stood in the doorway of her own bedroom, still as a stone. Cameron eyed Reese impassively but Sarah was certain she could see the faint tensing of muscles in her jaw.

"You've slept with bombs going off over your head. The mouse isn't bothering you," Sarah stated, certain this was more a ploy to somehow get under Cameron's skin rather than a dislike of the animal itself.

"It bothered you." His expression was more smug than Sarah would have liked.

"He was gnawing through my wall and he chewed through three detonator wires. Right now he's running on a wheel that I can't hear in my room, let alone yours. Crackers stays." Sarah took the cage from Reese, handing it to Cameron. "Go to bed."

Waiting for the grumbling man to turn and saunter off, Sarah headed back to her room. She cradled her arm protectively against her side as she moved. Rolling over in her sleep had made bandage shift, the pursuant pain nearly causing her to throw up. Gingerly lowering herself into a sitting position, Sarah closed her eyes to ward off the nausea.

She heard Cameron place the cage back on her dresser before steady footsteps came toward her room.

"Your bandage is seeping, it needs to be changed," Cameron said quietly.

"I know. I'm not looking forward to it."

"I can carry you to the bathr..."

"Thanks but no thanks, Girlie." Sarah did allow herself the luxury of taking Cameron's hand, the small machine pulling her to her feet. "Aside from a raging headache, I don't feel too bad."

Cameron led her into the bathroom where she shut the door, collecting the necessary supplies for a bandage change. Sarah sat on the edge of the bathtub, finding herself reticent to remove her shirt. She had wrangled herself out of her bra at some point after she had passed out. Did she really want Cameron to see her naked?

Logically, it wasn't a big deal. Terminators didn't sexualize the body the way humans did. In yet another irony that was her life, Sarah was probably safer with the machine than anyone else. Unbuttoning the front, Sarah pulled her shirt from her body, using one arm to hold her breasts in place. She lifted the other arm to allow Cameron access to the bandage that ran the length of her ribcage. "You look like you're doing all right. Any major damage?"

"Burns across forty five percent of my epidermal layer, a number of which were damaging enough to reach my endoskeleton. Lacerations from shrapnel. Otherwise, I am relatively undamaged." Cameron took hold of the bandage. "This will sting."

Sarah bit hard on her lip, tamping down the urge to vomit as the bandage was peeled from her body.

"Shower?"

"I'll deal with that in the morning." As much as Sarah longed to be clean, she didn't have the energy to keep herself upright in the shower.

Seeming to understand her exhaustion, Cameron stood, running a sink full of water. A clean cloth was pulled from the shelf and dunked in the steaming water before Cameron turned back to Sarah, her unspoken question evident.

How badly did Sarah want to rinse the last twenty four hours from her skin? Badly enough to let a machine give her an impromptu sponge bath?

Sarah brushed a hand against her face producing a palm full of ash, dirt and flecks of dried blood.

Yes, she needed a bath that badly.

Sarah nodded her acceptance to Cameron who bent over, wiping gently at her hairline before moving methodically down her face and neck. The heat from the water soothed tense muscles, the brush of Cameron's thumb against a particularly stubborn area of dirt acting as soothing massage.

It felt good.

Not only to be clean but to be cared for. To not be the person bandaging wounds. Or planning the next attack. Or raising the saviour of humanity. To simply, be.

Sarah tamped down on the disquieting thought that reminded her it was a machine who was treating her with such subdued reverence. The earnest expression written across Cameron's face -as she worked to wipe away the worst of the dirt from Sarah's body- assured that machine or no, a person existed inside the manufactured body.

The bath was over quickly, Cameron's efficiency put to good use. Sarah cleared her throat, unsure what proper conversation was given the somewhat… intimate moment they had shared. She settled, as usually did, for practicality. "Any word on the Triple Eight or what he was looking for?"

Cameron taped a fresh bandage in place, smoothing it with her fingers to ensure a good seal with Sarah's skin. "No. The plates are not registered in the California system." Handing Sarah a fresh shirt, Cameron turned her attention to cleaning the bathroom.

"Fake?"

"It appears so. John is checking out of state DMVs to be certain."

"Damn it. All right, I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Cameron." With that, Sarah stood and headed for the door.

"Sarah?"

"Hmmmm?" She turned, gaze focusing on the young woman who seemed slightly out sorts as she twisted a package of gauze in her hands.

"Thank you for letting me keep Crackers."

Despite herself, Sarah smiled at Cameron.

"You're welcome."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** All characters are the property of people that aren't me. I don't own anything beyond some ratty rugby boots and a mothertrucker of a headcold.

My apologies if some of the scene changes seem rather abrupt. For some reason, my scene breaks '****' weren't showing up. I've gone from asterisks to dashes, hopefully that takes. As always, comments are constructive criticism are much appreciated. Enjoy.

**Arming Pasadena: Part 5**

"That metal is probably dust. What the hell does it matter what his mission was? He didn't complete it," Reese said, a week later. Their attempts to discover who or what the Triple Eight had been after in the warehouse had proved fruitless.

Cameron had gone so far as to volunteer to return to the site of the explosion and sift through the debris, an idea Sarah quickly vetoed. Whatever evidence was in the warehouse had likely burned off and she wasn't about to take the chance that the enemy terminator was laying in wait for just such a return.

Neither Derek nor Cameron had any recollection of the warehouse being important in the future. No battles. No work camps. No Resistance strongholds. Its sole, dubious distinction was that it would be within fifty kilometres of a nuke during Judgement Day. Which only meant that, four years from now, the rubble would be radioactive.

"Cameron said..." John started.

"Oh, 'Cameron said'." Reese let out a snort. "The machine told you what, John?"

Sarah frowned, torn between jumping to her son's defense and realizing that he needed to learn to fight his own battles.

"The explosion wasn't hot enough to destroy the terminator. He's probably trying to rebuild himself as we speak. We need to know what he was up to so we can stop him before he completes his mission," John said.

"His mission was in that warehouse. Warehouse is gone, mission over." Reese stood and left the room without another word.

"Why won't he listen?" John asked.

"Because he can't let Cameron be right. He doesn't trust her and he'll do whatever he has to prove her wrong."

"I sent Cameron back. I must have known what I was doing, right? Cameron's on our side, why can't he accept that?"

"The machines have taken a lot from him, John. His brother, his childhood, his world. It's understandable."

"Well, I went through the same thing, or I will. I still trusted Cameron enough to send her back to protect me."

"It's different, John. We expected the world to end. We saw it coming. We prepared for it. Reese... he didn't have that. He'll be a young boy suddenly responsible for his even younger brother in a world that turns dark overnight. It's hard to forget." Sarah remembered her own anger, her own hatred, for the loss of the life she had been living.

It hadn't been much to be sure. A shitty waitressing job. A shared apartment without much hope for bettering her place beyond marrying up. But it had been her life, her decisions. Not fate plucking her from a simple, quiet path to throw her onto a speeding four lane highway, facing the wrong the direction.

She understood the place of rage that Reese came from because it was where she had been. Once. That didn't mean she liked it, but she understood.

"I just… I wish..." he shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're not going to let any of this happen. We're going to stop it." John looked at her, question in his troubled eyes.

"Yes." Sarah squeezed his shoulder. Her simple life had been taken from her but she could still give John his. It wasn't too late for him. Not yet. "We'll stop it." She would stop Judgement Day or die trying.

Sarah slid into the drivers seat of the Jeep, satisfied when her stitches twinged but gave no other protest as she strapped herself in. The house was empty, Reese was off doing… whatever Reese did and John was at the movies with Riley. She turned the key in the ignition, hand immediately clasping her pistol grip as the passenger side door opened.

"Jesus, Cameron!"

The machine stared at her blankly, Sarah's pistol held against her temple. Sarah let out a deep breath, putting the hammer back in place and tucked the gun into her belt. "You... need to wear a bell or something. You are too damn quiet." The machine continued to stare at her and Sarah rolled her eyes. "Are you getting in or not?"

Cameron slid easily into the passenger seat and closed the door. "Warehouse?"

"Warehouse," Sarah confirmed, throwing the vehicle into gear. The ride was silent, save for the quiet din of the radio as they drove through Los Angeles traffic.

"You told me this was too dangerous," Cameron said, sometime later, as the houses of LA gave way to the desert beyond the sprawling metropolis.

"Changed my mind."

"You chose a specific time when neither John nor Derek Reese would be able to question you."

Sarah looked over at the machine, unsurprised Cameron had picked up on her tactic. "If there's nothing there, we haven't lost anything and if there is something... well, John won't be in the line of fire."

"It is possible the Triple Eight has not had opportunity to repair itself. If we can access his chip, we can determine his mission."

"Took the words out of my mouth, Girlie." Sarah turned onto the road that would lead them to the warehouse. They stopped at the crest of the hill and Cameron stepped out, enhanced eyes surveying the site for signs of movement.

Cameron settled back in the Jeep. "It looks clear."

Driving down the road into the small culvert, Sarah stopped beside the guard shack and the bullet riddled body of the Triple Eight's transport truck. Sarah killed the engine, nose wrinkling at the smell of death and decay as she got out of the Jeep.

"All right, let's see what we see." Sarah walked toward the remnants of the warehouse, startled as a strong hand gripped her shoulder and held her back.

"The ground is unstable." Cameron kicked a burned out barrel ahead of them, both watching as a sinkhole opened up and swallowed the charred metal. "Follow me." The terminator led the way toward the center of the explosion.

The point of ignition had burned itself out, leaving only ash and slag behind. Sarah hoped there was something more than just melted metal around. Movement to their left and two guns rose as one, taking a line of sight as Cameron stepped ahead of Sarah, shielding her with her body.

A small, red fox popped up from behind an overturned crate, something fleshy dangling in its mouth. Sarah preferred not to speculate exactly what it was that the fox had found for its dinner. Cameron didn't lower her weapon, following the small animal with her gaze as it scurried away.

"Don't kill it." Exasperation coloured Sarah's voice as she pushed the terminator's pistol to the side before motioning her forward. "Come to think of it, where's that bird?" Sarah asked, suddenly remembering the chirping, yellow bird that had roosted in their chimney.

"It flew away."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was being told the truth or what Cameron knew she wanted to hear. Deciding that –sometimes- ignorance truly was bliss, she let the subject drop.

"This wasn't here," Sarah said as Cameron overturned large plates of metal with ease. "There weren't any metal walls." The two inch thick, metal plates seemed to be roughly the size of the crates. "It must have been lining for one of the crates."

Cameron knelt down, inspecting the edges of the plates. "The heat was enough to melt the welds. Whatever was inside may have been destroyed."

"Or," Sarah's gaze turned to something... odd in the debris. "It could have gotten blown out of the box. Over there." Sarah motioned to a collapsed catwalk that was heaped over a piece of metal. Whatever it was still glinted brightly in the setting sun, despite the blackened char around it.

Cameron focused on it, her enhanced eyesight doing whatever it did to bring her vision into sharper focus. The machine mutely walked over to the collapsed catwalk, pushing against it to move it off their discovery. The catwalk shifted against the last remaining wall, threatening to bring it down on Cameron. Seemingly unconcerned, the terminator put her body weight into it and shoved.

Sarah saw the wall shift just as Cameron looked up to see the same. Acting without thought, she dove to push Cameron clear of the collapsing wall that threatened to bury the terminator under tonnes of debris. It was akin to hitting a brick wall, her shoulder instantly bruising as she connected with Cameron's knees and they rolled out of the path of the falling wall. Sarah pushed herself up -wincing as her shoulder protested- to find Cameron staring at her curiously.

"I would not have been damaged."

Sarah paused. No, Cameron probably wouldn't have been damaged. So why had she acted as though Cameron were…human?

"No but I would have spent the next two hours digging your tin ass out of the rubble. We don't have that kind of time."

Yeah, time. That was it.

Sarah offered a hand to Cameron whose attempts to pull herself up nearly tugged Sarah to the ground in the process. "On second thought, why don't you get yourself up?" Sarah stepped away to give Cameron room to move. "Now that you've thoroughly demolished the place, try to get back under the catwalk and grab whatever it was. I'm going to look around over here, see if we can't find the pieces of your friend."

"He's not my friend," Cameron said quietly as she flipped pieces of debris out of the way. "He is an enemy terminator."

"Fair enough, Girlie," Sarah moved to where she had last seen the Triple Eight, letting out a startled grunt as her boot pushed through the charred floor. She caught herself, waving off a concerned Cameron who stopped her task to check on Sarah. A quick flick of her boot revealed a piece of a robot arm. It was badly dented and the wiring partially melted but otherwise in good condition, considering it was no longer attached to a body.

Sarah threw it clear of the warehouse, they would collect as much of the body as possible for disposal. Turning over the remnants of a crate revealed a metal leg that had been separated at the knee as well as a foot.

While the explosion hadn't been hot enough to melt the Triple Eight, it had evidently emitted enough force to seriously screw up his day. Sarah was barely able to pick up the severed limb, the Triple Eights seemed to be built even more solidly than Cameron's model. She abandoned the leg and grabbed the foot, tossing it to the side before she continued on. Cameron could pick up the heavier pieces later.

She was in the center of the warehouse when her foot broke through again, a tell tale creak warning that she was in a vulnerable position. Cursing lowly, she mustered on, carefully pulling out her foot only to have the floor drop from beneath her. She barely had time to cry out for Cameron before her body hit the dirt, some twelve feet below. She coughed in the dust, tugging the flashlight from her boot and clicked it on to investigate her surroundings.

"Sarah?"

"I'm all right, I'm in a basement. They must have built the warehouse on top of some sort of bunker," Sarah said, looking up at the hole she had created as she fell.

Cameron was leaning over, scanning the debris, evidently trying to calculate whether the floor would hold her weight or if she risked collapsing more of the wood and burying Sarah alive.

"Stay up there, I'm going to take a look around."

"It's not safe," Cameron admonished.

"It'll be even less safe if your half tonne ass collapses the rest of the floor on top of me. Just keep digging for whatever that thing was, I'm going to check what's down here."

Cameron looked as though she wanted to argue, Sarah could see what she now knew was worry in the machine's eyes. Feeling odd that she had to reassure a machine, odder still that she would bother too, Sarah called up. "I'll be fine. I'll yell if I need anything."

"My rear skeletal structure does not weigh five hundred kilograms," Cameron said as she walked away.

"What?"

"I said my ass doesn't weigh half a ton!" The machine yelled back, her voice louder than Sarah had ever heard and laced with something that bordered on annoyance.

Sarah chuckled quietly as she walked down the concrete tunnel. Leave it to John to not only send them back a terminator with emotions but with a sore spot about her weight as well. As if life wasn't crazy enough already.

Sarah turned her attention to investigating the area, more of a wide tunnel than a proper basement. The tunnel was constructed of concrete, thick enough to keep the sand at bay but evidently not enough to withstand extensive fire damage. Not a fallout shelter then. Sarah quirked an eyebrow as her flashlight swept across the cement floor.

There were fresh scratches. Nothing overly obtrusive but enough to a trained –and, admittedly paranoid- eye, to question what had made the marks. Pulling her pistol, she rested it on top of her wrist as she continued down the tunnel, searching for whatever had left the scores in cement.

She didn't have to wait long.

Her light glinted off metal, reflecting brightly back at her. The Triple Eight, one leg short, was propped against a heavy metal door, completely motionless. Biting down on the urge to turn and run, Sarah held her ground. Too obtrusive a movement could wake it from standby mode. Even damaged as it was, Sarah was well aware how quickly it could move.

Taking deliberate, slow, steps backward, she killed the flashlight and used her hand to feel her way along the tunnel. A rumble overhead, probably Cameron shifting something, was big enough to shake dust loose from the ceiling. Another rumble and a piece of concrete bounced of Sarah's pistol, rolling toward the slumbering terminator.

Sarah wanted to call out, scream at Cameron to stop, but such an alert would surely wake the Triple Eight. She was better off moving quickly and hoping for the best. It was pure, dumb luck the Triple Eight hadn't woken when the floor collapsed. There was likely a certain range the disturbance had to occur in before it kicked out of standby mode. Something for later consideration, Sarah told herself sternly as she spared a look for the hole she had fallen through. Almost clear.

That was when she heard it, the grind of metal on metal. Sarah turned to face her enemy, watching as lifeless eyes flickered to awareness, their red glow an ominous warning of things to come.

The vision of her nightmares. A memory from her past. Alone. Trapped. A terminator, grinning its metallic smile, murder in its eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** As usual, I only own a quickly disintegrating sense of sanity. I'd offer over what's left but trust me, you don't want it. The biggest issue with the last chapter seemed to be length, thus, this chapter is double that and then some. (And my Mom says I never listen. Pssh.)

I'm still a total tool, scene breaks with the dashes didn't work. I'm going to try underlining this time around. If it still doesn't work, someone is going to have to save me from myself and tell me what the frak is going on. If you take the time to read, please take the extra minute to drop a comment. Enjoy.

**Arming Pasadena: Part 6**

_That was when she heard it, the grind of metal on metal. Sarah turned to face her enemy, watching as lifeless eyes flickered to awareness, their red glow an ominous warning of things to come._

_The vision of her nightmares. A memory from her past. Alone. Trapped. A terminator, grinning its metallic smile, murder in its eyes._

"Cameron! Down here!" Sarah fired at the Triple Eight, the unsatisfying click of a locking slide heralding an empty clip. The barrage of nine millimetre bullets did nothing to slow the machine as it hopped toward her with disturbing speed. Abandoning the idea of defense, she ran for the hole, still unsure what she would do when she got there.

There was no way up.

She reached the patch of sunlight just as the Triple Eight cleared the corner, leaving Sarah no choice but to turn to meet him head on. Ignoring her instincts to retreat, she charged at him, dropping just before his leg to use her body weight to crash into him. It knocked him off balance, his heavy body hitting the floor with a thud.

The stunt bought her mere moments, the terminator quickly righting himself, his bulky body blocking her exit. Damn it. She couldn't go toe to toe with a machine for long. Where the hell was…

"Cameron."

A quiet thud proceeded a slight body dropping into the basement, the metal man thrown abruptly to the side. Cameron took her place in front of Sarah, protecting her with her body as she assessed the situation.

She stepped forward to meet the approaching machine, her stance broad. Her larger counterpart -surprisingly steady on one foot- brushed past Cameron's guard and threw her into the cement wall with ease. The room shook with the impact and Sarah saw a momentary pause in Cameron's movement, as though the hit had stunned her senses. The machine shook it off, driving her palms into the chest of her opponent to send him across the room.

As the two struggled for dominance Sarah searched the area for something –anything- to even the score. Cameron was powerful but the sheer momentum and weight behind the Triple Eight's body, even damaged as it was, proved difficult to counter. Sarah winced as Cameron absorbed a hit that would have taken off the head of anyone but a machine.

Cameron returned the strike with one of her own before she was taken by the shoulders and once again slammed against the concrete wall. The Triple Eight gave her no quarter, picking her up by the throat only to throw her to the ground repeatedly. Cameron showed no emotion but Sarah could see her responses slow.

Panic rose in Sarah's chest. Not just panic that if Cameron were destroyed, she would find herself similarly terminated. But panic for Cameron herself. She couldn't stand here and watch the woman die.

Loading a second clip into her pistol, Sarah hoped -if nothing else- to distract the Triple Eight long enough to let Cameron recover. She fired at the base of the spine, one of the few weak spots in the Triple Eight design. The delicate wiring that acted as their nervous system was shielded by metal vertebrae but -as with a human spine- there were breaks in the protection. Especially bent over as the Triple Eight was.

One particularly lucky shot landed in space between his lower vertebrae, nicking the wire. It wasn't enough to disable his leg but she did get his attention. Wonderful.

Tossing Cameron carelessly to the side, he turned on Sarah, his skeletal smile the thing of nightmares. A few short hops and Sarah was forced to duck a mechanical hand only to have the other grab her and swing her toward the wall. There was time enough to register that the impact would break every rib and likely her skull as she hit. Sarah was therefore surprised when firm arms caught her, slowing her momentum before rolling her out of harm's way.

She still hit the wall forcefully enough to make her body scream but was able to stand in time to see Cameron backhand the Triple Eight.

They weren't getting anywhere this way.

A search for weapons found Sarah's attention on the catwalk railing which hung into the tunnel. She jumped, batting at it to see if it would move. It shifted but didn't come down and Sarah jumped again, holding tight to the bar and wriggled her body to free an eight foot piece of pipe. She slid the pipe to Cameron who was down on the ground once more.

The smaller machine grabbed the bar, shoving the tip under the rib cage of her opponent. Levering it up, it gave her enough room to get her feet into his chest and push him off. The Triple Eight pulled the bar from his body, whipping it at Sarah who narrowly avoided the flying pipe as it whistled past her head.

Cameron and the Triple Eight continued to struggle, the walls shaking dangerously with each impact. If they weren't careful, they would end up buried alive. Wait.

That might work.

Sarah scooped up the pipe from the ground, using it to dislodge cement, wood, anything she could bury the enemy terminator with. A large chunk of cement slid loose just as Cameron and the Triple Eight passed through its path. The bulk of it hit the Triple Eight, pinning him beneath the crumbling concrete block. Sarah's relief was short lived as the slide created a shift in the weight above. A groan of metal, a snap of wood beams and the entire floor began to collapse.

"Oh, sh..."

Sarah was pushed roughly to the ground, Cameron's warm body covering hers, shielding her from the deluge of debris. A strong hand kept her head tucked down as hundreds of pounds of cement crashed around them. Sarah wasn't certain how long they stayed in that position, long enough for her legs to cramp and the pocket of air around them to become stale. She felt a shift as Cameron began to stand, driving small but powerful shoulders up to push the collapsed floor off them.

"I told you it wasn't safe."

Dutifully chastised, Sarah said nothing, eyes scanning the destruction around them. Well, she was nothing if not thorough. If she wanted to bring something down, she certainly didn't fuck around.

Cameron walked up a pile of debris, staring at one area before she drove her fist through to pull up the skull of the Triple Eight. Red eyes glowed and movement under the mountain of debris pressed the need for action. There were still shoulders attached to the head and they were itching to get free. Sarah climbed up, offering Cameron the screwdriver that would pop the cap and release his chip. An efficient twist of the tool and the chip was in Cameron's hand, the Triple Eight's eyes now dark and lifeless.

"There's a blast door back there. I have a feeling we're going to need that," Sarah pointed at the chip, "to figure out what's back there. Do you know what was in that crate?"

Cameron handed the chip over before setting to dig out the terminators' body in earnest.

"It was a weapon," Cameron said. "The M-21 cannon. It's a future design from Skynet to equip the T-400 series. It should not exist for another twelve years."

"I'll bet that was supposed to go inside the blast doors, along with whatever was in the back of the Triple Eight's truck. Probably materials to build more of them."

Cameron stopped digging and picked her way down the debris before heading around the corner to the blast doors. She returned shortly, eyes glowing blue in the dark depths of the concrete hallway. "I could not bypass the security system. The doors are set to open on July 19th, 2015."

"…That's three days before the Battle of Pasadena."

"Yes, it could significantly affect the outcome of the Battle of Pasadena if the T-200 series is armed with the M-21." Cameron hauled the Triple Eight out of the debris, slinging its lifeless body over her shoulder.

Sarah sighed, it was never easy.

"All right, then we grab the prototype and the materials and get rid of them as well," Sarah said. "John can take a look at his chip and tell us how to get past the blast doors. Maybe we can rig it so whatever opens them in the future gets a nasty surprise."

Cameron followed Sarah as she climbed the debris pile to get back to ground level. She looked at the body of the terminator, the M-21 and the damaged transport vehicle in the distance.

"We're going to need a bigger truck."

Sarah carried the foot into the garage, tossing it into the cinder block grave. She made way for Cameron who dropped the greater part of his body in with a thud. They had hauled the destroyed Triple Eight and the M-21 back to the city in the Jeep. Having no way to transport what they found to be a truckload of a lightweight metal alloy, they left it in the desert with the intent to return in the morning. It wasn't Koltan, as the true M-21's would be made of, but it was hardy enough to make do. Though, Cameron explained, they wouldn't be as reliable or quite as long lived.

Sarah had toyed with the idea of keeping the M-21. Perhaps find someone who could re-create the weapon and use it as a force for the Resistance. Recognizing that might tempt fate just a little more than was wise, she had dismissed the idea. Which led them to now, Cameron spreading the ignition powder over the remains of the Triple Eight and the M-21 while Sarah watched.

John and Reese had yet to return from their respective adventures, leaving Sarah and Cameron to dispose of the evidence on their own. It was odd. Sarah recognized the machine in her now more than when Cameron and the Triple Eight were duking it out in the desert. Her calm, methodical actions, as she removed every shred of evidence that her kin existed, were done without a glimmer of Cameron's budding emotions.

She knew she had seen worry when Cameron had checked on her after the collapse. A concern that went beyond that of a machine on a mission. She had noticed it even when Cameron was on the ground, being pummeled into oblivion. There was a look in her eyes that –had Sarah seen it in any other person- she would have instantly classified as regret. As if the young woman knew she was failing and the consequence would not only mean her end but Sarah's as well. A machine with feelings. Truly. God help them all.

Sarah was even more disturbed by her own visceral reaction to watching Cameron be hammered so mercilessly. She hadn't reacted as though Cameron were a machine, a favoured tool that was being abused. Her reaction had been much the same as if John himself had been in danger. A sickening panic in the pit of her stomach that she was about to lose something intrinsically important to her. She would have to save that for later dissection. Right now they had better things to concentrate on.

Sarah stepped back as Cameron lit the flare, tossing it calmly into the cinder grave. They watched in silence as the endoskeleton and the weapon melted into a shapeless puddle of slag, to be buried later, somewhere in the desert.

"You all right?" Sarah pointed to Cameron's face. A split above her eye was deep enough for metal to shine through the congealing blood.

"Yes. Crackers will be hungry." The terminator walked past Sarah, heading toward the house. Acting without thought, Sarah took grip of Cameron's wrist to stall the woman's progress. It was more a gesture than true attempt to stop her, they both knew it. The deceptively small woman could throw Sarah across the garage with barely more than a twitch.

"You saved my ass out there today. Thank you." Sarah looked into the terminator's eyes, hoping Cameron could see and recognize the sincerity in her own gaze.

"You're welcome."

Releasing Cameron's arm, Sarah watched as the young woman walked up to the house. Sarah spared a last look for the melted puddle of Koltan before closing the garage doors and following after Cameron.

"You went out there alone?" Reese's tone indicated exactly how poor of an idea he thought that to be.

"I wasn't alone," Sarah said, poking at her burnt pot roast, "Cameron was with me."

"Worse than being alone then," he muttered before looking into the roasting pan only to raise an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to be?"

"Dinner," Sarah said, though she wondered how much char was necessary before the roast was no longer considered meat but a piece of kindling. If Reese's expression was anything to go by, his thoughts had strayed into similar territory.

"So what did you find?" Derek asked.

Sarah reached into her pocket and held up the chip of the Triple Eight.

"It was sitting next to a set of blast doors. We think it was after a prototype for the M-21, the truck was filled with an alloy that Cameron said would make a half decent copy of the real deal."

"The M-21? Those don't exist until the T-400 line comes out. That's not for..." Derek seemed to tick off the years in his head, trying to gauge the time between battles and deaths and the apocalypse.

"Twelve years or so. Cameron is under the impression that the prototype and the materials were going behind the blast doors. When the doors open, probably at the Battle of Pasadena..."

"The T-200s get the 1.0 version of the M-21. When John goes to free the people from the work camp..."

"He and every other Resistance fighter will get mowed down by a weapon that by all rights shouldn't exist for at least six years."

"Damn. That's playing dirty." Derek rubbed his hands through short hair. "What's the plan?"

"The prototype is destroyed. We have to go back to get rid of the materials. I'm hoping John can get the codes for the blast doors off this." Sarah held up the chip of the destroyed Triple Eight. "Speaking of, where is John?"

"Dunno, it's still early," Derek said, checking the clock above the stove.

"The roast is burnt." Cameron said in greeting as she walked into the kitchen, keen eyes focusing on the meat formerly known as beef.

"Yeah, I know." Sarah was unable to keep the exasperation from her voice.

Cameron held out a brown paper bag. Confused, Sarah took it, opening it to find a combo meal from the burger shack down the road.

"Based on past experience, I calculated a high probability of culinary failure," the machine said in simple explanation.

It didn't get past Sarah that there was only a meal for one. Cameron's courtesy evidently didn't extend to Reese. The thought nearly made her smile.

"Thank you, I think... How high of a probability are we talking here?" Sarah was surprised to get a small smile as a response rather than a verbal diagnostic of her continuous culinary chaos. The smell of fresh food reminded her how hungry she was and she dug in, offering a french fry to Reese who looked like he'd rather eat a bucket of Koltan screws before something Cameron had brought them. Rolling her eyes, Sarah turned her attention to the terminator. "Any luck finding a truck?"

"Yes." Cameron pulled a folded set of photos from her back pocket to place them on the counter top. She pointed to a large truck, "this model will have the required carrying capacity. The truck yard operates twenty four hours and security is minimal. We shouldn't have a problem obtaining the vehicle."

"Good, we'll leave at nightfall."

"And what would you like for me to do?" Reese's expression told her that he didn't like being left out of the plan.

"Track John down, get him on that chip. I want to know what the Triple Eight knows."

Derek clenched his jaw. She knew he hated babysitting duty but they needed John to work and she didn't have time to track him down. Finishing the last of her meal, Sarah tossed the spent remnants into the garbage. "C'mon, Tin Miss. Time to get a truck."

Ten minutes later, they were in the Jeep, Sarah in the driver seat as Cameron went about her usual surveying of the area for any perceived threats. Evidently satisfied, she turned her attention to Sarah.

"Was the food satisfactory?"

"Yes, thank you. Much better than burnt pot roast," Sarah assured. It was still odd to have these occasional moments of ... caring on the part of the terminator. She wondered if this was how the machines might eventually take over. Their ability to feel, to care for other beings as more than a mission... Would that be the line that blurred the differences between man and machine? How long after Cameron's design until machines and humans were no longer distinguishable from one another, save for their inner workings?

"You are troubled?"

"Huh? How did..?"

"You have not started the vehicle."

Sarah came back to herself. Indeed. They were sitting in the Jeep, engine off, while she stared at the decrepit door of the garage. Shaking her head to clear her mind of the disquieting thoughts, Sarah started the engine and pulled out setting them on course for the truckyard.

"I'm not troubled, I'm thinking."

"About the truck yard? It will be 'easy as pie'," Cameron said.

Sarah didn't miss the tone in the terminators voice. As though the machine was trying to comfort and reassure her that the mission would go well. It certainly didn't help Sarah's increasingly feeble attempts to remind herself that it wasn't a socially inept young woman beside her. It was an infiltrating machine that was evolving into a more efficient unit as it became better able to read and mimic human traits.

"Where'd you learn that one?"

"My physics teacher," Cameron explained as she watched the world go by. "I have read the recipe for pie, it seems complex."

"Complex to you?" Sarah asked with a quiet snort.

"There are many different pies and variations of recipes. Further instructions include adding ingredients 'to taste'. I thought the ingredients were for taste any way."

Sarah smirked, looking over at the machine who wore the expression that she was thinking an equation through and wasn't coming up with the right answer.

"'To taste' is an expression. It means that you add more of one ingredient or another to make the flavour you like. Some people like sweet so they add more sugar, others like cinnamon. That kind of thing."

"But each human has a different sense of taste and what is desirable."

"Yes..."

"Then no single pie could appeal to all tasters. You would require a variety of pies to keep people satisfied. That is not easy."

"And thus 'easy as pie' is incorrect?" Sarah asked with a raised eyebrow as she turned the corner into a parking lot down the block from the truck yard.

"Correct."

"All right, then what expression would you like to use?" Sarah asked as they exited the truck and headed for an abandoned building across from the yard. Cameron had scouted the look out point this morning. Most of the reconnaissance had been done by the machine but Sarah didn't like going in to any situation without seeing it at least once. It wasn't that she didn't trust Cameron's assessment of the yard, it was more like Reese's reluctance to fire a weapon he hadn't loaded himself. She needed to see a thing with her own eyes to fully trust it.

"Easy as field stripping an M-16?"

"Not everyone knows how to do that," Sarah reminded as they walked up the steps to the second level of the building.

"But it's easy. Why wouldn't they? It is a set procedure, there is no variation for taste."

Sarah shook her head and continued on.

"It is an expression that would make more sense in our situation than an expression with reference to food."

Sarah couldn't refute that logic so said nothing as she stopped at the door marked 2A and pushed it open.

"There are other human expressions that I do not understand."

"Such as?"

They entered the room and Sarah dropped her backpack to the ground, pulling out the small folding camp chair to take a seat by the window. It was in perfect view of the truck yard. With a set of binoculars she was able to see well enough to know that the tubby gate guard's supper probably wasn't on his Weight Watchers point system.

"What does it mean to 'bring home the bacon'?"

Sarah turned to look at the terminator.

"Economics class," Cameron explained.

"It means to bring money home. Provide for your family."

"But why? Pork is not a negotiable currency, it would make more sense to eat the pig."

"I… I don't know, Cameron. It's just an expression. There's a lot of them." Sarah turned her attention back to the truck yard, watching people walk from the employee parking lot move through the pedestrian gate into the compound. There wasn't much security at the pedestrian gate, the guards' attention centered mainly on the trucks coming in and out of the compound. Easy to get in, not so easy to get out.

"Hmm." Her gaze fell on a small pub across the parking lot. A steady chain of men were in and out, many of them with greasy papers tucked into their pockets. Work orders. Between her and Cameron, it wouldn't take much to get a set of those and walk into compound unmolested.

"It will not be difficult." Cameron's words held the tiniest hint of a question, wondering if her assessment of the situation was in line with Sarah's own.

"Easy as field stripping an M-16," Sarah said, gaze still on the comings and goings of the truck yard. Had she been looking at Cameron, she would have seen the smile that lit the terminator's face at her words.

"I can subdue one of them in the parking lot," Cameron suggested as they walked down the street, two hours later.

"I'd rather do this with as little bloodshed as possible."

"I can do it without making them bleed."

"Let's just try it my way first, okay?" Sarah pushed open the door to the small trucker pub and stepped inside. All eyes turned to her and Cameron as they entered, sidling up to the bar before signaling for drinks. She requested a beer for herself and tonic water for Cameron. The bartender seemed to consider asking Cameron for ID but thought better of himself at Sarah's impatient glare. "All right, we need to get a set of papers."

"There." Cameron's gaze rested on the pool table where four men contemplated the next shot, half full mugs of beer resting easily in meaty hands.

"Had to be the biggest guys in the room huh?" Sarah paid for their delivered drinks.

"We will need clothing as well, we do not match their attire."

Sarah looked around at the groups in the bar. Cameron was right. The patrons had their own little cliques but they still seemed to wear a sort of uniform. Sneakers, dirty jeans, button up shirts in varying shades of plaid. In her leather boots and jacket, Sarah didn't really fit the bill.

"Two of these things are not like the others," she muttered quietly, approaching the table much to the elation of the four men staring at them. "Hi, boys," she greeted. "Who wants to play a match?"

"We play for money, Sweetheart. But you and your friend are more than welcome to watch." One of the men widened his smile, revealing a number of missing teeth.

Sarah seemed to consider his offer for a moment. "I'm not one for spectator's sports but we don't have much in the way of cash. Tell you what, how about we play for shirts?"

"Shirts?"

"Yeah. Your best guy against her." Sarah turned her gaze to Cameron for a moment before looking back at the men, who seemed equal parts intrigued and confused. "Your guy loses, we get his shirt."

"And if she loses?"

"I'll lose mine," Sarah said, taking a sip from her beer. As the foursome laughed and went about deciding who was to play, Sarah leaned over, speaking quietly into Cameron's ear. "I don't want to walk out of here half naked, get it done."

Cameron nodded, moving to fetch a pool cue while Sarah sat near one of the men. His work orders were shoved into his overstressed pocket. Easy enough to lose or drop on the floor.

Sarah alternated her attention between the man at her side and feigning concern for the game that was about to start. She had only taken an interest in pool as a means to hustle money when she had first been on the run. There was no real passion for the game and -considering the outcome was about as close to a foregone conclusion as one could get- she wasn't worrying herself over the results.

The men, however, were watching with increasing interest. Cameron, as a young lady, was allowed the courtesy of breaking. Sarah watched as all eyes in the bar glued to at least one part of the terminator's lithe body. The men in front of Cameron seemed mesmerized by the distracting cleavage that was being revealed. The others at the tables around them had their gazes fixed firmly on the machine's well shaped rear. The man beside Sarah wasn't immune to Cameron's good looks and as his attention went to the bent over form at the table, Sarah easily snagged the documents that were edging out of his pocket. Slipping them into her jacket pocket, she sat back and waited.

Sarah could understand where everyone's attraction was coming from. She was many things but blind wasn't one of them. The machine was perfect in about every way possible, including the imperfections that made her more desirable because she wasn't some unattainable Madonna. The small birthmark on her eyebrow, the faint scars along her right cheek - evidence that even Cameron, evolved as she was, could still go bad.

Cameron's chest rose and fell as she set up her first shot and Sarah wondered if she had been programmed to mimic breathing or if it was something she had picked up as she immersed herself in humanity. Whatever the source, it made her chest swell in the tight shirt and Sarah found, somewhat disturbingly, that even she wasn't immune to Cameron's beauty. Here she was, Sarah Connor, mother of the future leader of humanity, and she was staring at the form of a machine posing as her daughter. Someone, somewhere, would have to agree that their family dynamic was something outlandish.

Cameron was a machine.

A terminator.

A built killer.

She was designed to infiltrate. Sarah steeled herself against the low buzz of attraction she could feel working its way up. That was how machines worked, how they got inside. By making you think they were something other than pure logic and cold metal.

Years of training had taught her to brush aside her emotions -no matter how disquieting- and Sarah did so, attention turning to the decidedly short match. Cameron didn't even allow her opponent the courtesy of a chance at the table, neatly sinking all of her balls in quick succession. He stared, wide eyed, before turning to his friends who seemed equally stunned that the diminutive brunette had put him in his place. Sarah silently thanked her luck that he looked to be the cleanest of them all. Maybe his shirt wouldn't smell like chewing tobacco.

"Your shirt, please." Cameron held her pool cue in one hand and motioned to the man with the other.

Ten minutes later, they walked from the bar, Cameron with a freshly bought trucker hat proudly bearing the logo "Moe's Pub and Trucker Stop" and Sarah with an oversized plaid shirt that she was forced to roll up at the sleeves.

"Your hat's too new," Sarah said as they headed for the pedestrian gate to get into the trucking compound.

"I just purchased it." Cameron's confusion was evident. Rolling her eyes, Sarah took the hat from a small head.

"Yeah and it looks it." Pulling a weed from beside the fence, Sarah rubbed the dirt encrusted roots over the hat to give it a worn look. She fiddled with the bill, curving it to better fit the slim face of her companion. "Turn around." Holding the hat in her teeth, she loosely braided Cameron's hair and pulled the hat over top.

"How do I look?"

Sarah took stock of the terminator, scuffed boots overtop battered jeans and a well fitted tank top. The stern expression on the young face contrasted the cheery neon orange hat that seemed to oddly compliment the outfit. Sarah gave a quick smile, instinctively reaching out to tug playfully on the bill of the cap.

"Like you're ready to drive, Rubberduck."

"Rubberduck?"

Sarah sighed, deeply, her only recourse to what she truly wanted to do and that was scream. Loudly. She looked again at the back of the destroyed transport truck, willing her eyes to see something different from what was there. Or perhaps more correctly, what wasn't there.

"There are tracks leading into the desert, the depth of them indicates the vehicle was heavily loaded. Someone took the alloy." Cameron's voice floated over from the front of the truck where the machine was trying to ascertain who or what had grabbed the alloy and made off with it.

"How much is that metal is worth on the open market?" Sarah asked, rounding the truck to look at Cameron. The machine was silent for a moment, her attention turned inward as she did her mental tally.

"It's a sturdy, rust resistant alloy with a high melting point..."

"Cameron." Sarah didn't need the full diagnostic, just the facts.

"A lot. If they know what they have."

"All right, let's go."

"Go?"

"Yeah, we're following those tracks until we find them or the trail goes cold."

"The footprints indicate at least six men," Cameron cautioned.

"And you, of all people, see this as a problem?" Sarah's gaze fell meaningfully on the pistols strapped to Cameron's thighs. Never mind that the machine was a one woman army.

"I see it as a concern," Cameron corrected as she followed Sarah to their stolen truck. "Derek Reese would not approve of this mission without proper support."

"Derek Reese can make that decision when it's him out here in the desert. Until then, I've got you and that's all the support I'll need, Tin Miss. Now get the lead out."

"I do not have lead," Cameron said as they sat in the vehicle.

"What?"

"Koltan is not an alloy that requires lead."

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Sarah couldn't help but chuckle quietly as she turned the engine over. Some days, life was so bizarre.

They followed the tracks for some time, 7.654 miles, Cameron was kind enough to relay after making a pointed comment that the truck recorded eight miles and change. They hit the highway, the wheel direction of the trail indicating the mystery truck had turned back toward Los Angeles.

"And the search continues," Sarah muttered, flicking on her turning signal. "We'll need to keep a look out for it on the market. Otherwise, I'm not sure what we can do."

Cameron nodded, her eyes focused on some point in the distant desert. "Someone built the weapon. We should look for engineers in the city, specifically missing or dead ones. From there we should be able to locate the source of the alloy and anyone who may have wanted to obtain it."

"As good a plan as any." Sarah clicked on the radio and settled in for the long drive home.

The Jeep pulled in to the driveway shortly after dawn, the transport truck now a burned out hulk at the edge of the city.

"You should get ready for school," Sarah said as they pulled up to the house. "I'll make pancakes."

_tbc…_


	7. Chapter 7

*Author's Note: Apologies about the length between updates. When you manage a small business and you're suddenly short staffed, things tend to get a wee bit hectic.

As always, I own nothing but my caffeine addiction and a slightly skewed sense of reality.

Thank you again for the reviews. If they could be replied to, I did (I think/hope/meant to).If you take the time to read, please take the extra minute to drop a comment. Enjoy.

**Arming Pasadena: Chapter 7**

Later that night, as Sarah's work lay sprawled across the coffee table, Cameron approached, sitting quietly on the opposite side of the couch. Sarah quirked an eyebrow at the dip in the cushions but refrained from making a teasing comment about the machine's weight. She wasn't certain Cameron would read it as the good natured humour she meant it as. Quickly stowing away the fact that she had consciously considered Cameron's feelings, Sarah returned her concentration to the lists in front of her.

Cameron made no move to speak and Sarah -knowing the machine would speak when ready- continued scouring for a name -any name- that would pop out at her. A tiny squeak broke Sarah from her reading and she glanced over at Cameron to find Crackers investigating his owner's palm. Cameron held a tiny piece of carrot in her other hand, encouraging the mouse to come her fingers.

"Is it okay for him to be out?"

Sarah looked at her companion, dumbfounded by the gentle touch that was offering the treat to such a fragile animal. She had seen those hands take a life without a second's pause. And, awed as she was by the scene, she couldn't say she was truly surprised. Sarah remembered the Cameron's gentle ministrations as she had lain in the back of the Jeep, injured and unable to care for herself.

"Just don't let him get loose."

"I could catch him again." Cameron brought her hand to her face to inspect Crackers more closely. "I like the music you gave me. Crackers does too. He calms down when I play it."

Sarah let a small smile break cross her lips though she didn't look up from her paperwork. "I'm glad."

Something about the way Cameron interacted with the mouse both intrigued and disturbed her. Maybe it was the near reverence with which she held it, or that she had bonded enough with the animal to know that it liked the music. It was just, weird.

"Him."

"What?"

"Him." Cameron leaned forward, one hand closing protectively around her pet, the other grabbing the unmarked photo of a man getting into his car. "I saw it on television, he's missing."

"Are you sure?"

Cameron's eyes narrowed on the picture for a moment before she nodded. "It's him."

"That gives us a jumping point." It wasn't anything concrete, God only knew how many of the targets in Derek's file had already gone 'missing' but it was as good a place to start as any. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Leaning toward Cameron, Sarah eyed the small mouse that sat in her palm. "He's cute, you're doing good with him." With that, she stood and stretched, attempting to loosen the muscles in her back that had knotted themselves nearly to the point of spasm. The stitches in her side twinged, skin tightening around the sutures as she twisted to relieve the pain in her lower back. She gave a start as a soft hand landed on her stomach, trailing along the edges of the suture line.

"Does it still hurt?"

Looking down, Sarah could see only concern in Cameron's eyes and forced herself to bite back the snappish retort at being touched. Cameron was a tactile learner and her touch was simply her curiosity manifested.

"Only when I move the wrong way. What about you?" Sarah knew Cameron sensed damage, extra pressure, extreme temperatures. Were those sensations considered somehow unpleasant or were they just more information flying across the relays of Cameron's processor?

"My epidermal layer regenerates faster than humans." Pulling her hand away from Sarah, Cameron lifted the edge of her shirt to show the still healing burns, remnants of the explosion at the warehouse.

Sarah chose to ignore the vague sense of loss when Cameron took her hand away. The lean fingers had left warm trails along sensitive skin, the touch not altogether… unpleasant. Damn it. Sarah shook her head, trying to push away the rebellious thoughts that were attempting to take form in her brain.

"You're disturbed by my damage." Cameron said, taking Sarah's head shake as disgust with the badly marred skin. Sarah couldn't help but hear the slight note of disappointment in Cameron's voice as she spoke. She had hurt Cameron's feelings.

Sarah could relate.

Over the years, more than one lover had recoiled at the sight of her scars. Most hadn't said anything aloud, there hadn't been a need to. Their disgust was written across their face. Even with Charlie, she had seen the hesitation in his eyes.

Before -in the days when those trivial slights still mattered- it had hurt her feelings. Cameron hadn't the time or experience to harden herself to the slights the way Sarah had. She certainly didn't deserve to feel somehow inferior because of the scars she bore. The damage Cameron had taken was to keep them safe. The scars were trophies to be worn proudly, not stared at as though they were an aberration.

"No." Sarah brushed her fingers lightly against Cameron's damaged skin to show she wasn't put off by the marred flesh. "I'm not. Your scars, they're part of you now. Part of what makes you unique, your own…person." As she spoke the words, Sarah knew them to be true. Whether her model was one of a kind or one of a hundred, Cameron was an individual. A true being with thoughts and feelings who needed reassurance.

"Your hands are warm," Cameron looked to where Sarah's skin connected with her own in obvious curiosity. "It feels good."

Chuckling quietly, Sarah pulled her hand away from Cameron's stomach. That was quite enough self revelation for one night, thank you.

"Does it always feel good?"

"Does what always feel good?" Sarah leaned over, collecting the files she needed for further investigation and swept the others back into their respective folders.

"Human contact... Non-violent human contact," Cameron corrected.

"Not always I suppose, but usually, yes. I guess."

"Then why don't humans always touch?"

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, hoping a reasonable answer would form before the silence became oppressing. She was saved from the attempt by the slam of the front door and the 'clunk clunk' of two pairs of boots tromping across the hardwood floor.

"Supper," John said, holding up a paper bag that had started to seep grease at its edges. Frowning internally at the offering, Sarah put on her best face for her son and accepted the meal.

"Thanks. How's work going on the chip?"

Derek and John circled the couch, taking seats in the chairs opposite Sarah and Cameron. Sarah sat, pulling the fried chicken from its cardboard container and eyed it warily before deciding it was safe for consumption.

"Slowly. I'm trying not to burn out my computer this time. I'm also keeping any open internet connections out of range of the chip itself to make sure it doesn't try to connect the way Vic's did. It would help if I could get a better idea of how information is classified, or if I could open specific files of memory... I'll figure it out Mom, don't worry."

Sarah nodded, confident in her son's abilities. "Cameron recognized one of the men you and your squad were investigating." She handed the photo to Derek.

"Yeah, his tech shows up later on. He developed some kind of precision laser for optical surgery. The machines weaponized the tech and used it for some high powered sniper rifles."

"Then why kill him?" Sarah asked. "They need him to finish his work."

"He has. It was on the internet," Cameron said, all eyes turning to her. "It's already in development for fine-tuning, his job is done. Besides, that's not why they wanted him."

Sarah raised her eyebrow and gave the young woman an 'go on' look.

"He had to develop a cylinder to contain the laser's energy, channel it to pinpoint precision. The chambers he created, they're precursor to the cartridges used in the M-21 to contain the ammunition's energy charge. It makes them highly explosive rounds, the cartridges burst on contact creating a reaction that is exponentially larger than rounds of similar size."

"So this guy tries to create a better technique for eye surgery and ends up giving the machines high powered rifles and explosive laser rounds?" John asked.

"Yes." Cameron held Crackers up to her face again, watching blandly as he climbed along her hand. As if the news was of no consequence. As if it made no difference. "It was likely the prototype of the M-21 rounds that exploded in the warehouse."

"That was why the whole place went up like it was munitions factory. Huh." Sarah looked at the piece of chicken in her hand, feeling altogether nauseated as she thought things over. What could they hope to change when random pieces fell together to build Skynet and the weapons that would help them enslave humanity?

If it were one person, one corporation -with a purpose and a drive to create the infamous A.I.- that was one thing. Various people, no desires for anything but their own achievement, all melding together to create the end of the world was a horse of another colour.

So they had stopped one piece of the puzzle from being put into place. Would it make a difference in the overall picture? How many goddamn puzzle pieces were there? Had they really stopped it? Or just made sure it happened along its original time line, not six years early?

"Mom?"

"We need to find that shipment of metal and destroy it. If other people can follow in his footsteps... we have to keep those cylinders from going into mass production." Sarah looked to Cameron for confirmation. She found the machine staring intently at the piece of chicken in her hand. "Cameron?"

"It is possible there was a secondary Triple Eight working on the mission, one who was meant to retrieve the weapon and alloy in the even the first Triple Eight was unsuccessful. We need to access the chip," Cameron answered, still looking at the chicken.

"Did you want a bite?" Sarah asked, offering the cooling drumstick to the young woman. The terminator reached out, taking the chicken in hand and bit off a healthy piece before giving it back to Sarah.

Sarah ignored the dark stare from Derek, amused by the array of emotions that passed across Cameron's face, the most notable being what Sarah could only call abject disgust. Cameron swallowed -though it looked reluctant at best- before she stood and took the chicken from Sarah's hand.

"This is unfit for human consumption. It is not to taste." Tossing the chicken in the bag, mouse still hand, Cameron took the meal and disappeared into the kitchen. Sarah wrinkled her eyebrows, turning to her son who seemed equally confused. Shortly after they heard the dull thud of the bag being dropped in the garbage, the back door closed and an engine turned over.

"I told you that metal isn't acting right."

Sarah rolled her eyes, turning her attention to matters more important than Cameron's idiosyncrasies. "We need whatever is on that chip, fast as you can. I'm going to check around, see if anyone has come up looking to sell that alloy. It may have been a second terminator or it might have been some of Edwards' guys who think they hit paydirt."

"Derek, I need you to go to this guys' apartment, see what you see. I want to make sure he's dead and the Triple Eight didn't stash him somewhere to develop more ways to kill Resistance fighters."

Seemingly satisfied at getting what he considered to be one of the good jobs, Derek went to collect his kit.

"He's right you know, Cameron's off. It's not that she's behaving badly, she's just acting... different."

"She's been saying she's 'different' since the beginning. I think we're starting to see _how _different she is. I think her programming might be... evolving, somehow. She seems to be moving beyond mimicking emotions to actually having them. Or some version of them."

"You think she can feel?" John's voice was a cross between awe, disbelief and a sturdy dose of hope.

"I don't know. I think the potential is there and the weirdness we're seeing is some sort of growing pains."

Tabling the discussion of Cameron, Sarah focused them on cracking the terminator's chip. Twenty minutes later, the sound of the Jeep approaching and quiet footsteps along the back porch alerted them to Cameron's return. She walked in, handing Sarah a bag from her favourite Mexican place down the street.

"I'm going to put Crackers to bed, he had a big day." Cameron turned without waiting for thanks and headed for her room.

"Huh."

"'Huh', what?" Sarah asked, pulling out a warm burrito and taking a seat to enjoy her meal.

"I think you're right, I think she might have feelings."

Nodding her agreement, Sarah took a bite of food, closing her eyes to let herself be transported back to their quiet days in Mexico, when John was small and Judgement Day was far in the distance.

"And... I think she has a crush on you."

Long years of training had taught Sarah to react more or less calmly in most situations. And, with mouthful of burrito, she was left with little ability to cry out an immediate objection. Instead, she turned to her son with an expression that clearly said 'are you fucking kidding me?'

"Hey, it's not me she's catching mice and bringing burritos for," he defended. "I bet she doesn't even realize why she's doing stuff for you." He smirked as if he'd figured out the answer to the class question before anyone else.

"That's because there's nothing to realize, John. Cameron does not have a crush on me," Sarah argued, having finally worked through her mouthful of food.

"Then why does she stare down Derek every time he countermands you? The last time he yelled at you, I thought she was going to put him through a wall."

"She doesn't like him, she doesn't need a reason to stare him down or put him through a wall. The only reason she hasn't is because she doesn't want to undermine her mission."

"So you've talked this over with her?" John asked, one eyebrow raised cockily, as if it proved some point.

"We had a conversation about it in the Jeep on the way back from the warehouse." Sarah turned back to her meal, considering it a dead subject.

"So… you give her a CD, you defend her to Derek then you have a heart to heart with her about her feelings. And you think she _isn't_ going have a crush on you?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, it seemed her general paranoia was creeping into her son. He was seeing things where there were none to be seen.

"John, she's a machine." The argument fell flat, even in her own mind.

"A machine with feelings. If isn't a crush, it's a severe case of hero worship."

Sarah glared at him until he held up his hands in surrender, walking backward toward the staircase. John was up the stairs and nearly out of sight when he turned to her. "Just so you know, she wears that ugly, orange hat to school."

Sarah looked at her son, grateful her mouth was full of burrito. It saved her from yelling out the barrage of expletives that were dying to be let loose.

888

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Sarah asked, eyeing Cameron curiously.

The machine stared back without offering an explanation, merely held out the brightly wrapped box, complete with card.

"It's your birthday. People get presents on their birthday. " Cameron said, holding out the box expectantly when Sarah made no attempt to accept the gift. Sarah raised an eyebrow but reached out, taking the box from the younger woman. Dark eyes widened at the weight of the present. Apparently it wasn't new clothes.

"Thank you, Cameron. Any news on the alloy?" Sarah asked, using a blunted fingernail to flip the tab on the card.

"No." Cameron watched with thinly veiled interest as Sarah opened the card. "It's been two weeks with no further developments. I still maintain the men were operating under a second Triple Eight. I do not expect it to appear on the market."

"All the more reason for us to keep looking for it. If it was worth it for Skynet to send two terminators back then it's obviously important."

Sarah pulled the card from its envelope, mouth twitching into a smile at the cartoon mouse on the front that held a set of balloons that read 'Happy Birthday'.

The inside read simply 'Happy Birthday, Sarah', written in the terminator's neat script. She stood the card on the island and proceeded to unwrap her, gift running her hand along the dark, wood case. With a flick of the locks, the case opened, revealing the unassembled sniper rifle that rested inside.

"John said it was your favourite."

Sarah shook her head. "I've never fired one of these." Sarah's eyes travelled along the sleek lines of the weapon.

"Not your John, and not yet. We should go to the range. I can drive."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, John's words of a few weeks ago ringing in her ears. She felt stupid for considering it but -for a split second- she wondered if this was Cameron's subtle attempt to spend time with her. If she was honest with herself, the young woman had become more... attentive of late.

As Sarah had researched the missing man, Jones, and his associates, she no sooner had to think of a file that the machine was handing it to her. Or realize she was hungry and a meal had been put down at her elbow. Even her laundry had disappeared at some point to reappear neatly folded on her bed.

"I'm guessing you didn't buy this legally so a range isn't the best place to be fire it." Sarah was unable to deny the slightly crestfallen look of the machine. Damn it. "Maybe we can head out to the desert for some target practice."

Cameron didn't quite smile but there was a slight upturn of pink lips that showed she was pleased with Sarah's suggestion.

"Found Jones," Derek said as he entered the kitchen, tossing a blood encrusted ring on to the countertop. "He's dead. Machine dumped him in the desert, looks like it's been awhile, there isn't much left of him."

"I'm not sure whether to treat that as good or bad news." Sarah closed the weapon case and snapped the locks closed. "We need to find that alloy. Is there somewhere else nearby that would be a good staging ground for the machines at the Battle of Pasadena?" Sarah asked, hoping either Derek or Cameron had answers.

"There were hills to the West of the warehouse. They wouldn't be ideal but they would provide cover and be sufficient distance from the ground zeroes to maintain structural stability of any bunkers. Given geological surveys and plotting areas equi-distant to the Battle of Pasadena, I can form a search grid to work within and determine the most likely sites for bunkers."

"All right, do it. We're heading for the hills."

Derek opened his mouth, as if to protest and Sarah quickly shut him down.

"If it hasn't shown up on the market yet, it's not going to. Whoever has the alloy is either using it for themselves or is hoarding it somewhere. If that's the case you can guess who and why. Those M-21's are coming online soon enough, I'm not going to sit and wait for Resistance fighters to be mowed down at Pasadena because we were too lazy to follow every lead we could."

"I cracked it!" Suddenly echoed from somewhere upstairs. Sarah pulled the weapon case from the counter, tucking it into her room before following Cameron and Derek upstairs to John's room. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, hoping for good news.

"I couldn't categorize all of the data, but..." he typed a set of codes into the computer, "I did manage to pull the last few minutes of video memory. Including your fight with him," John said as an aside, looking at Cameron and Sarah. "What's more important is the last few seconds before his initial shutdown." John pointed to the screen where a metal hand tapped out the code for the blast door.

"He threw something inside." Sarah pointed to the terminator's hand which flicked something quickly into the bunker. The camera jarred for a moment, the images losing focus momentarily.

"Secondary explosions," Cameron supplied helpfully as they watched the door to the bunker close before the terminator interface went blank. "It's likely he was able to pull one cylinder from the rubble. They may not have the M-21..."

"But they'll have the high exploding rounds." It was never easy. "We need to get in there and get that cartridge out. We also need to find that alloy."

"Flip you for it?"

Sarah let out a sniff at Derek's question. "I'll take the hills and find the alloy, Cameron you're with me. Derek, take John and get into that bunker. Make sure whatever opens it six years from now gets a rude surprise." That actually got a smile from Derek.

"Any evidence there was a second Triple Eight in on the mission?"

"Nothing so far but I can keep looking."

"Good." Sarah motioned for Cameron to follow her out of the room. "It could take us awhile to find the bunker. Load up enough supplies for at least a week, we'll camp out there."

With a silent nod, Cameron went off to complete her task.

"So you're going to sit in the middle of nowhere with it? For a week? You'll go nuts." Derek said from behind her. Sarah sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she turned to face him.

"I've camped with soldiers, paramilitary," she paused, "you. I think I can handle Cameron for a week. Just keep John safe. And make sure he does his homework, he has a math test on Wednesday."

With that, Sarah walked down the hallway to gather the clothes she would need for the week. She was midway through her packing when she sensed a presence in the doorway. She was unsurprised to find her son standing there, leaning against the doorway, almost a mirror of her position in his room.

"Do you really think this is a good idea? What if something happens out there?"

"John, if we lived our entire lives by 'what-ifs' we wouldn't get anywhere," Sarah reminded, packing an extra week worth of underwear, just in case. "We'll find the alloy, and be back before you know it."

He knew it needed to be done. She knew that he knew it needed to be done. It didn't make it any easier to go about it. She had consciously tamped down on her instinct to keep him with her rather than send him with Derek. Even if hers was the more dangerous task, she always felt better having eyes on him. No one, man or machine, could protect her son the way she could.

But she couldn't coddle him forever, he needed to learn to stand without her. That and sending Derek and Cameron into the desert together –unsupervised- was a recipe for a disaster secondary only to Judgement Day itself.

"Just not how I pictured your birthday," John said, breaking Sarah from her contemplation. "I thought… I don't know, for once..."

"What, John? That we could all go out for supper and open presents and eat cake?"

His eyes dropped to the floor as he ran the tip of his boot along the hardwood.

"John." She walked up to him and put a hand under his chin, lifting his face to meet hers. "I'm alive and what's more important, you're alive. That's the greatest gift I can ever ask for. The rest of it… it's not in the cards for me, John. It never was. I'm okay with that."

"If it wasn't for me, if it wasn't for all this..."

"John," she stopped him, unwilling to let her son bear the weight of his destiny just yet. "If it wasn't for you…knowing what's coming... If I didn't have you to hold onto, I would have died a long time ago. You are what keeps me going." Sarah pulled him into a hug, reminded once more that, no matter the man he would become, he was still a young boy in many ways.

"Tell you what, when I get back we'll go out to dinner. Just you and me. We can even have cake if you want."

With a nod, he stepped back, reaching into his pocket to pull out a slightly mangled envelope that he handed to her. "I didn't know what to get you." This was said with a shrug as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Sarah flipped open the envelope to reveal two tickets to the Nutcracker On Ice. "Cameron's been playing that CD, it just reminded me of when you took me. It's stupid but..."

Sarah shook her head, tugging her son into another hug, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened. "It's not stupid, John. It's perfect." Leaning her head on his shoulder, Sarah breathed in the smell of her son. A scent she knew better than her own.

When she had been taken to Pescadero, Sarah had managed to hold onto one of his bandanas, hiding it under her mattress. She had held it to her nose as she slept until John's scent was nothing more than her own memories. It had been her link to the world. Her only tangible piece of evidence that someone beyond the white walls needed her and her strength.

Pushing down the troubling memory, Sarah breathed out and took a step back. She squeezed John's arms, trying to show the love for him that no words could truly express. He seemed to understand, giving her one of his half smiles as they let the emotional moment recede.

"The truck is packed."

They turned as one to Cameron who had the Jeep keys dangling from her fingers, a small knapsack at her side. Sarah gave her son one last look before returning to finish her packing. She listened as Cameron delivered instructions to John about Crackers' care.

The machine made certain to mention Crackers was to be taken out of his cage at least once a day to interact with humans and -in no uncertain terms- was that human to be Derek Reese. Sarah chuckled quietly at the not so subtle warning, zipping up her bag before walking into the hall.

"All set. We'll have to hit the grocery store for supplies. I'm not living on hard rations for a week if I don't have to," Sarah said, hitching her backpack on to her shoulder. "Good luck on your test. Derek, don't eat pizza every night." She raised her voice so the man would hear her. She got his typical grunt in response.

"John, grab the wood case beside my bed for me." With that, she and Cameron headed for the Jeep, tossing their gear into cargo area. John handed her the sniper rifle case which she shoved under the floorboards with the other weaponry.

"What do I say at school when she doesn't show up?" John asked.

"What's going around?" Sarah opened the passenger door to the Jeep. It was late, she was tired, Cameron didn't sleep, it was only fair the machine drive.

"Mono and the stomach flu."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and looked to Cameron who watched the conversation with a vague sense of disinterest.

"I don't think she's the type to get the 'kissing disease', go with the flu. I'll write a note when I get back. And be careful in that bunker, there's no telling what else they're keeping behind that blast door."

"Eyes up, head down. I know," John answered, closing the door for her.

"I mean it about the pizza," she called out through the open window as Cameron backed down the driveway.

"He will eat pizza all week," Cameron said knowingly as they lost sight of him around the bend of the driveway.

"Yeah, I know."

_Tbc…_


	8. Chapter 8

***Author's Note****: Once again, apologies for the length between updates. Chapter 9 should be up within the week. *crosses fingers***

**As always, they aren't mine. The only thing I own is some spent ice packs from a recently broken nose and the mother of all caffeine headaches.**

**Read. Review. Enjoy!**

**888**

"Do you want anything?" Sarah asked as she carried the groceries to the front. Cameron eyed the shelves but didn't make a move to grab anything. Considering the terminator was going to spend a week out in the woods with only her as company, Sarah figured the young woman deserved some sort of treat.

"I don't eat."

"You don't _need_ to eat," Sarah corrected. "But I've seen you eat before and I know you can 'taste'. Are there flavours you enjoy?"

Cameron seemed to consider the question, processing her past eating experiences. "Yes, I like pancakes. And French toast."

"I think it's safe to say you're a carbs girl. I can't make pancakes or French toast out there but I can get the next best thing." Leading them to the cereal aisle, Sarah pulled down a box and handed it to Cameron. "Here. John was addicted to these when he was younger. I think you'll like them."

"Thank you."

Nodding dismissively, Sarah carried the basket to the front to ring up the groceries.

"Sarah?" The terminator was holding up a tube of liquid candy that read 'Super Sourz'. "I like sour too."

The cashier looked at Sarah who gave a slight smile of indulgence, motioning for Cameron to throw the candy onto their stack of goods. It wasn't like the machine was going to get a cavity.

Ten minutes later, Sarah at the wheel -fortified by what could only be described as a tureen of coffee- they were back on the road. Seemingly content to inspect her treat, Cameron unsealed the wrapper on the candy and flipped open the cap to get at the liquid goo.

Sarah turned her head just as Cameron squeezed a mouthful candy onto her tongue. The muscles of the terminator's jaw worked as she shifted the goo around with her tongue, tasting the candy fully. Sarah cleared her throat, pointedly ignoring the sudden temperature increase inside the truck as she put her attention back to the road. There was something nearly sinful about the way Cameron licked her lips clean.

"So, is it good?" Sarah asked in an effort to break herself from the decidedly disturbing direction her thoughts had headed. She fought the urge to go cross eyed as a slender finger, complete with a dab of the neon pink goo, was presented to her.

"Try."

Not wanting to admit how awkward the situation was, particularly to herself, Sarah soldiered on. Reaching out, she swept the candy off Cameron's finger with her thumb and licked it off.

Her mouth puckered at the intense flavour, eyes instinctively wanting to squeeze shut in reaction.

"Does closing your eyes somehow increase the intensity of the flavour?" Cameron asked, her tone curious.

"No." Sarah shook her head. "Just makes you feel better."

Cameron, who was licking another dollop of goo from her finger, made a point of pursing her lips and squeezing her eyes shut. Sarah chuckled at the sight despite herself. It was going to be an interesting week.

"I like sour." Cameron reaffirmed before she closed the candy tube and tucked it into the glove compartment. "Do you like sour Sarah?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," the elder woman answered as they drove on into the night.

**888**

"This is a good place for camp," Cameron said, directing Sarah to stop the Jeep in a small culvert off the road. "It's isolated enough that we are unlikely to be detected and the cliffs will provide cover."

Sarah stepped out of the Jeep, clicking on the flashlight to sweep the light across the area. "Looks good. All right, Tin Miss." Sarah opened the back of the Jeep and tossed a peg hammer into Cameron's arms. "Let's get started."

An hour later, the tent had been pitched and Sarah had stuffed herself on a can of Chef Boyardee, pointedly ignoring Cameron's comment that it possessed less nutritional value than the pizza John would be eating all week.

The machine had broken into her box of 'Cinnamon Toast Crunch' noisily chewing on the small pieces, one at a time, always with the same look of veiled curiosity as the flavours moved across her tongue.

"The sun will be up in four hours, you should rest."

Nodding her agreement, Sarah crawled into the tent and shucked her clothes before tucking in to her sleeping bag. Cameron stood at the door of the tent, eyes alert and back straight as she scanned the surrounding area for signs of danger or disturbance. It was a little unnerving to have the terminator there, so obviously portraying her mechanical qualities. It was one thing to know Cameron didn't sleep, it was quite another to have an unmoving five foot four guard dog standing outside your tent.

"Cameron?"

The machine turned at the address.

"That's kind of..."

"Creepy?"

Sarah inwardly cringed, knowing the machine was somewhat sensitive to the word since Derek Reese was so free with it. "I was going to say 'unnecessary'. Chances are if another terminator grabbed the alloy, he's sitting in a bunker with it, not combing the hillside for us. Why don't you sit and listen to some music in the truck?" she suggested, not wanting to let Cameron know that she did find the terminator's vigilance a little… unsettling.

Scoffing at herself, Sarah realized that she didn't want to hurt Cameron's feelings. If someone had told her a year ago that she would give a damn about how a machine felt, she probably would have shot them for the insult. Now, here she was, watching her words to spare Cameron discomfort. Seemed the machine wasn't the only one who was evolving.

A rustle of paper and Cameron was seated at the tent door, presumably mapping out their route for the next day. Satisfied, Sarah turned over in her sleeping bag, pulling it high over her shoulder to ward off the desert chill. It was comfortable enough with the air mattress and she had certainly slept in worse places. Cameron was outside, guarding the gates as it were, she was a safe here as anywhere else. Despite that, twenty minutes later, Sarah still found sleep elusive.

"Your respirations have not evened, you can't sleep."

Sarah sighed, giving up the pretense and shoved the sleeping bag from her shoulders.

"No, I can't." She scrubbed her face with her hands and let out a long breath. She was exhausted and they had a long day ahead of them. She needed to sleep if she was going to be of any use while they were looking for the bunker.

"You're tense," Cameron observed, looking into the tent as Sarah sat up to stretch. Maybe loosening the knots in her back would settle her body down enough to put her out for a couple of hours.

"It's been a long month," Sarah said, raising an eyebrow as Cameron moved into the tent and sat beside her. Strong hands landed on Sarah's shoulders kneading at the tight muscles. Her body instinctively tensed under Cameron's ministrations, her mind all too willing to remind her that with a quick squeeze, the terminator could easily end her.

"Is it too hard?"

Sarah shook her head, physically trying to shake the idea of a murderous Cameron out of her mind. The machine didn't deserve it. She had been nothing but caring and attentive these last few weeks, seeming to enjoy the occasional opportunity to provide Sarah with whatever small comforts she would accept. Decided, Sarah forced her body to relax, allowing her head to loll forward as small hands worked tirelessly to ease the taut muscles at the base of her neck.

There was a part of her, a rather large part, that told Sarah this was almost obscene in its ludicrousness. Fortunately, that part of her was enjoying the massage just as much as the quieter voice that was thankful for the contact, if only because it had been so long since she had enjoyed the touch of someone else.

"Let me guess," Sarah spoke, trying to break some of the intimacy of the moment, "TV?"

"Yes." Cameron shifted again, sitting directly behind Sarah to allow better access to the muscles in her lower back. "I read books on how to do it properly."

Nodding dully, Sarah's eyes slowly closed of their own volition. She wasn't certain when the firm kneading gentled into an almost caress. She was even less certain of when it was that Cameron moved to lay her down in the sleeping bag, pulling the covers over her. As she fell into unconsciousness, her last sleepy thoughts were of the warmth against her back and the weight draped over her side.

**888**

Sarah awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the movement of something warm against her back. She rolled over to be met with the sight of a seated Cameron, maps splayed across her lap, a slender but powerful leg resting against where Sarah's back had been. Brushing the hair from her face, Sarah blinked blearily at her companion.

"What time is it?"

"Six thirty two, sunrise is in ten minutes."

Sarah pushed herself into a sitting position, rolling her head on her neck, surprised by the relaxed muscles. She hadn't felt this good in months. A deep, dreamless sleep, a sunny morning, waking up next to someone else…. Wait. Startled by the way her lizard brain had run away with the direction of her thoughts, Sarah cleared her throat. "We should get moving."

Cameron nodded, leaning over to show the maps to Sarah. Mind still misfiring in her sleepy haze, Sarah couldn't help but let her eyes dip lower on Cameron's tank top than was strictly appropriate. More than slightly disgusted with her lack of control, she wrenched her thoughts back to Cameron's plan and off her body.

"These are the most viable sites for a bunker. They provide the most shelter from the nukes and are near enough to access points to be convenient."

Pointedly keeping her eyes on the map, Sarah took it from Cameron, referencing their current position to where the nearest bunker would be. Ten miles away in a deep gorge. Perfect. If her brain couldn't keep her body in check, she'd tire herself out to the point that any thought beyond putting one foot in front of the other was mere fantasy.

"All right, let's get moving."

Ten minutes later, they had broken camp and Cameron was behind the wheel, taking them in as close as they dared to the potential site. Sarah wasn't certain what it would take to alert a Triple Eight to their presence but she wanted to avoid it if possible. They tucked the Jeep behind a set of dunes and began their trek across a mile of desert toward the gorge ahead. Cameron shouldered the heaviest of their gear, Sarah carrying her water supply with her Glock strapped tightly to her thigh.

They spent the day fruitlessly searching, not turning up anything more suspicious than a dead wolf carcass, which spoke more of a problem with poachers than with invading machines. By sunset, Sarah called an end to their day, trailing behind Cameron as the machine led them unfailingly back to the Jeep in the darkness.

As Cameron pitched the tent, Sarah grabbed a cloth and a small supply of their water to wash up. Going behind the Jeep to maintain some modicum of decency, she stripped off her bra and underwear. Running the cloth over her body, she shivered as her skin broke out into gooseflesh. It wasn't a shower but it was as close as she would come for the immediate future and infinitely better than crawling into her sleeping bag completely filthy. Scrubbed skin and fresh undergarments went a long way toward recovering from a day baking in the desert.

The sun had gone from oppressive to unbearable by mid morning. Cameron, ever the picture of preparedness, had reached into her pocket around noon to pull out a foldable hat for Sarah. The terminator hadn't said anything. Hadn't chastised Sarah for her lack of foresight -or asked if it was needed it- merely handed it over wordlessly and returned her attention to her observations of the valley.

Sarah sighed, John's comments running rampant through her head. Cameron had been more than helpful these past few weeks, yesterday particularly, offering the massage and staying with her through the night, a silent protector. Sarah couldn't help but wonder if it was part of the programming or part of the new being Cameron was evolving into. Knowing that particular train of thought was bound to do nothing more than exacerbate her heat headache, Sarah set to pulling on her sweats and a tank top.

Unfurling a map across the hood of the Jeep, Sarah highlighted the areas they had combed. A depressingly large stretch of land had yet to be checked. A week had been too hopeful of a calculation.

"I'll make supper," Cameron volunteered after she had finished setting up the tent. Sarah gave a distracted nod as she calculated the area they had covered during the day. Picking the nearest site, she circled the rough area they would be able to cover in the morning.

"The probability of our locating the bunker is small," Cameron said, some minutes later, as she set a fire heated can of chili on the hood of the Jeep. Sarah reached for the can, cursing as hot metal threatened to scald her skin. "Careful, it's hot."

Pursing her lips at the tardy warning, Sarah wrapped her sleeve around the can to pick it up. "We keep looking, we've only been out here for a day." Sarah spooned the chili out of the can, blowing on it to cool it down. "We start here tomorrow," she said, indicating the potential site with the end of her spoon.

"You're salinity level is unbalanced," Cameron said without comment on Sarah's plan. Reaching in to her pocket, she pulled out a packet of electrolytes. "This will correct the balance and help the headache."

"...How did you know I had a... you know what, I don't want to know." Sarah shook her head, unduly irritated that the machine could tell when she wasn't feeling well. She snatched the packet from Cameron's hand, downing it dry only to cough at the chalky taste. A canteen of water was placed in her free hand before Cameron walked away, a decidedly low set to her shoulders.

Disgruntled, Sarah sipped at the water, the temperature of the liquid telling her that Cameron had taken the time to grab it from the quickly warming remnants of the cooler. Sighing, she shook her head, at herself, at Cameron, at the whole damn day. Leaving the canteen and the chili can on the hood of the Jeep, she headed for Cameron. The young woman was staring into the darkness, no doubt searching the perimeter for potential threats. Sarah took her place beside the machine, staring with her into the black.

"I'm sorry." The words were spoken before Sarah fully realized they had come from her mouth. She had wanted to calm the waters but an out and out apology hadn't really been what she was aiming for. Mustering on, she spoke again, "I shouldn't have been so… abrupt. You were trying to help and you didn't deserve it. Thank you, for everything today. I appreciate it."

There. That hadn't been quite as painful and demoralizing as she had thought. Not waiting for a response she returned to the truck to finish her dinner. It took a few minutes but Cameron eventually came over, her hangdog expression left somewhere in the desert.

"You should rest," Cameron said, sliding the map out from under Sarah's hands, leaving Sarah no room to argue. Exhaustion winning out over her deep seated need to protest, Sarah handed the remnants of the chili to Cameron and headed for the tent. She heard the spoon scraping against metal and spared a glance back to watch Cameron taste the chili. The terminator seemed unimpressed by the food, easily crushing the can in her hand before tossing it into the fire. Unable to contain a low chuckle, Sarah eased herself into her sleeping back, wincing as her muscles protested.

"Sarah?"

Cameron stood at the door of the tent, a concerned expression on her face. "Are you tense?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow in question.

"Your muscles, you walked a lot. It would be helpful to massage them to promote blood flow and minimize muscle fatigue in the morning."

Sarah let out a breath finding her good sense warring with the incredibly tempting offer of another skilled massage. It wasn't exactly the strongest excuse to allow Cameron to touch her but at this point her mind was willing to take whatever it could get. Her calves were already tightening and she knew she would be in a bad way in the morning as it was.

"I... I would appreciate that," she admitted, moving to push herself into a sitting position.

"Lie down, it'll be easier," Cameron advised.

Sarah fought the instinctive urge to bristle at being ordered around by a machine and turned onto her stomach, surrendering herself to Cameron's ministrations. Despite her exhaustion, or perhaps because of it, Sarah found herself fighting back other instinctual urges as Cameron straddled her body.

As the terminator bent over to begin, rich, dark hair fell past her shoulders, tickling gently along the nape of Sarah's neck. She fidgeted in place, tamping down sharply on her desire to wriggle, if only a little, under Cameron. Damn if a day of trudging through brain baking sun and sand didn't manage to sort her out. Not good.

It wasn't that Sarah was unfamiliar with the bodies of other women. With the end of the world in front of her and death and hardship at her back, Sarah had learned to take her comforts where she could. But it was one thing to take a woman as a lover and quite another to allow her lusty thoughts to focus on a machine. Maybe the dehydration had brought on a mild case of delirium.

Sarah let out a quiet hiss as Cameron dug her thumb into a particularly sore spot, nearly missing the quiet 'sorry' as the machine gentled her touch and tried again. She was moments from sleep when she Cameron moved from on top her and -against her better sense- nearly moaned at the loss of contact.

It had felt disturbingly good to have the weight of the younger woman on top of her, even if it was only a fraction of Cameron's actual weight. Strong hands moved to the backs of Sarah's thighs, kneading the recalcitrant muscles into submission. She could have kissed Cameron as a particularly stubborn knot gave way and her leg relaxed from her calf to her lower back.

"You are no longer tense, can you sleep?"

The only was answer was Sarah's light snore.

**888**

Three days, four massages and one snake bite later, Sarah finally set eyes on the bunker. Cameron had spotted it from a mile way. Literally. The smooth blast doors had been camouflaged but not to the point that they could be hidden from the sharp eyes of the world's most intelligent machine.

"What do you think is in there?" Sarah asked, scanning the area for signs that the path to the bunker had been booby trapped.

"A Triple Eight guard in stasis. Opening the blast doors will likely reactivate him."

"Great. I suppose it's too much to hope that he just dropped the cargo and left."

"I believe so. I will open the doors, you will remain in position here to destroy the Triple Eight." Cameron handed Sarah the case to her new sniper rifle.

"No way, we go down there together." Just because Cameron could handle herself didn't mean she was infallible. She wasn't about to let the machine get hurt. Brushing away the stray thought that mocked her for considering Cameron's well being, Sarah sipped at her canteen.

"That would be ineffective. It would require extra monitoring of your movements and that of the Triple Eight to ensure your safety. You stay here."

"I'm not about to get ordered around by a machine, Girlie. I'm going in there." Sarah resettled the pistol at her thigh, checking the rest of her weaponry for readiness.

"After I have disabled the Triple Eight."

Sarah paused as a realization dawned. "Are you… arguing with me?" Cameron never argued. She went silent and stoic and did as she was told. That was her purpose. What a time for the machine to start sowing her rebellious oats.

"Your actions would run countermand to my primary mission objective to protect Sarah Connor."

"So, you _are _arguing with me?"

"I'm providing a logical alternative to an illogical plan. My plan is correct."

"Cameron..." Sarah sighed, prepared to simply give the machine a direct order that she would have no choice but to follow. She didn't get the chance. The small fist that came at her dropped her into oblivion before she could think to stop it.

Sarah came to some minutes later, nestled under the shade of a tree, her fully assembled rifle at her side. Blinking her right eye, she tested the swelling. It wasn't much. Cameron, -super computer that she was- knew exactly how hard to hit to put her down with the least amount of damage.

That didn't mean Sarah wasn't going to ream her out for it later. She was also going to have to talk to Cameron about what shows she was watching that decking her came up as a viable solution to an argument. Shaking her head at the absurdity, Sarah took her rifle in hand and walked to the edge of the small valley. Cameron was patiently standing outside the blast doors, looking in Sarah's direction.

Uncapping her rifle scope, Sarah flashed it at the sun, the beam hitting Cameron square in the eyes. A slight nod from the terminator let her known she'd been seen and Cameron approached the doors. Sarah wasn't certain how the machine went about it. There was a brief flash of electric light and suddenly the doors were moving apart, exposing the innards of a makeshift bomb shelter.

At the entrance stood an unmoving Triple Eight, an unusually hulking mass of muscle covering his metal endoskeleton. The Triple Eights were usually built big to house their metal chassis but this model bordered on ridiculous. His body seemed an unfortunate creation of a gym addiction and an overdose of steroids that had been poured into what Sarah could swear was an Armani suit.

It certainly didn't help that his reboot time was nearly nil.

The sixty second window Cameron should have had to disable him was cut by three quarters. He was running a faster processor than his counterparts. The doors had no sooner cleared his massive body that he had a beefy hand wrapped around Cameron's slender throat.

Sarah put her rifle to her shoulder, taking careful aim across the small valley, sighting the head of the Triple Eight. One shot forced him a step back and he released Cameron as the slug impacted his body. The second shot destroyed one of his optical sensors but didn't disable him.

Cameron took the opportunity to charge, grabbing him by the lapels of his overstuffed suit to push him against the rock. Sand and gravel shifted behind Sarah as she took aim for a third shot. She froze, her breath held as she slowly turned to make sure she wasn't about to get side swiped by another rattle snake. The metallic hand that poked from the red earth assured her that wasn't going to be the case.

Oh.

"Shit."

_tbc…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: They aren't mine. *shuddergasp* **

**Thank you for your reviews/favourite story/story alerts. As always, they are much appreciated. I responded to all (I think) of the ones that would let me do so. Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. Enjoy!**

_Sand and gravel shifted behind Sarah as she took aim for a third shot. She froze, her breath held as she slowly turned to make sure she wasn't about to get side swiped by another rattle snake. The metallic hand that poked from the red earth assured her that wasn't going to be the case. _

_Oh._

"_Shit." _

Slinging the sniper rifle – an unwieldly weapon in close combat- Sarah brought her pistol up to bare, firing indiscriminately at the rising machine. It did nothing to slow the skeletal Triple Eight as it pulled itself from its shallow, sandy grave to confront her. Her pistol aimed at his gleaming head, Sarah fruitlessly fired the last of her clip only to have the weapon knocked from her grasp with wrist shattering force.

The unmistakable crack of bone splitting from bone echoed across the valley, an explosion of pain screaming up Sarah's arm. She stumbled back, out of his reach, using her good hand to unsling her rifle as the machine advanced. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the barrel of the gun with her injured hand, using the metal to block the heavy arm that swung at her head.

The maneuver kept her skull in one piece but did little to bleed off the force of the blow. Sarah was knocked off her feet, tumbling down the valley, a trail of red dust behind her as she slid to the bottom. She lost her rifle somewhere in the fall, the weapon tugged from her hands when it caught on an errant rock.

This was not going as planned.

The metallic whir of machine hydraulics followed Sarah as the Triple Eight chased her to the bottom of the valley. She had no sooner slid to a stop -spitting out dirt and blood- that she was on her feet, pelting up the valley toward a struggling Cameron. The smaller machine was a hairsbreadth from being dismantled, her massive opponent bludgeoning her mercilessly with his fists.

Stopping midway up the slope, Sarah took a moment to test a set of small boulders. She braced her back against one boulder, her feet against another, using her body weight to nudge the boulder by a fraction of an inch. It was enough to send the rocks beneath the boulder toward the pursuing Triple Eight in a deluge of rubble.

The wave of rocks knocked him off his feet, burying him to the waist in red shale. It wouldn't hold him long but it might give her enough time to get Cameron back on her feet. If the terminator went down, she may as well kiss her own ass goodbye. Sarah continued to climb, feet slipping in the loose earth, headed for Cameron. The younger woman was on the ground, absorbing the never ending litany of fists from her larger counterpart. Sarah moved quietly behind the pair, grabbing the largest rock she could manage with a broken wrist.

The move was suicidal. No other words could describe it. Taking on metal with a rock was about as useful as her bare fists. But it might give Cameron a chance to escape. Get back to John. Keep him safe.

That would have to be enough.

Sarah aimed for the meat of a thick neck, driving the sharp point of the rock just below the base of his skull. She hit her mark. She knew it when the machine's responding backhand sent her to the ground -head ringing- instead of across the valley as it should have. She had damaged his motor control.

"Sarah!"

Sarah rolled herself onto all fours, dazedly searching for Cameron. The smaller machine had taken the opportunity to push herself off the ground, turning Sarah's rock to powder as she broke it across the enemy terminator's head. There was a hitch in his movement, not quite a stumble but a definite moment of weakness. Cameron capitalized on it, sending the bulky machine over the edge of the valley to roll into his metallic counterpart.

Sarah, barely able to breathe, let alone stand, felt a firm hand wrap around her undamaged wrist and pull her to the bunker. Red sand gave way to smooth concrete, the dim bunker a blinding contrast to the blazing light outside. Cameron punched numbers into the door controls, the heavy steel moving to shut them away from their enemies.

Metal crunched on stone as the Triple Eights worked to get to them before the doors closed. Cameron stood guard, taking the shots from the recovered sniper rifle, shielding Sarah from the bullets. The blast door closed, one metal fingertip neatly sliced from the first knuckle to land at Cameron's feet.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Sarah leaned back, head resting on concrete as she took a moment to sort herself out.

"Sarah?"

"I'm okay."

"You're bleeding."

"Yeah, there is that."

Strong arms moved under her shoulders, pulling Sarah into a seated position. In enough pain to justify the action to her own conscience, Sarah relaxed into Cameron's body, leaning her head against the machine's shoulder.

"That was close." Sarah used her good hand to pull her damaged arm against her chest, cradling it tightly to her body.

"I didn't account for a second terminator… I'm sorry."

"I didn't see it coming either," Sarah admitted, closing her eyes in a vain attempt keep the world from spinning. "That Triple Eight was huge. Is it just me or did he look kind of like the Governor?"

"He was abnormally large," Cameron agreed, arms tentatively wrapped around Sarah's waist to hold her sitting up. Sarah wouldn't have admitted it at gunpoint but the support felt… nice.

"Analysis of his skeletal structure shows a modified battle chassis designed to withstand increased combat damage."

Sarah frowned as she realized what that meant. "An upgrade."

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

**888**

"There are no medical supplies," Cameron said, half an hour later. She had searched through the various crates in the bunker only to come up with tonnes of metal. Enough for Skynet to manufacture hundreds if not thousands of the modified M-21 weapons.

"No surprise there. I don't think preserving life was what they had in mind when they built this place." Sarah cradled her wrist to her chest, her makeshift sling built from the sandy remnants of Cameron's over shirt. "How long until they get through those doors?"

"They do not have sufficient equipment to destroy the doors. They will have to return to Los Angeles for supplies."

"How the hell did you get the door open?"

"I was able to access the circuit that powers the door. I bypassed the clearance codes."

"That's not much for security."

"I believe that was the function of the second Triple Eight."

"Touche. They're just going to wait us out, aren't they?" They or rather, she, couldn't survive long in this bunker. No food, no water and judging by the silence, no air being recycled.

"I believe so. The modified Triple Eight likely returned to the city for supplies. The other is..."

"Standing guard. Can you take him, by yourself?"

"I sustained heavy damage during the encounter. Dependent upon its condition, there is a high probability I will be terminated."

"How many rounds did he fire on the sniper rifle?" Sarah needed a better idea of what they might be facing.

"Twelve."

"It was only a sixteen round clip, I popped off two. He only has two shots left. It'll take the upgrade Triple Eight the better part of two hours to drive to the city. Which leaves us with maybe five hours all told. I don't suppose we have any way to blow the bunker?"

"No. The C-4 and detonators are in my pack."

"Outside."

"Yes."

"With the Triple Eight."

"Yes."

Damn it. Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose, an unconscious habit she had picked up years ago that she used to calm herself. "What are our chances?"

"If both Triple Eights remain to terminate us, our probability of survival is less than ten percent."

"If there's only one?" It was a pretty big 'if' but they weren't exactly awash in options.

"Survival probability increases to approximately thirty percent."

Not great odds but better than one in ten.

"Then we should move now. The longer we wait, the more likely the other Triple Eight will be able to hunt us down once we escape."

Cameron turned to Sarah, expression as serious as she had ever seen on the machine. Now what?

"We should kiss," Cameron stated. At Sarah's somewhat bewildered expression, she explained, "for luck."

Sarah blinked, wondering if one too many hits to the head had damaged her hearing. "Beg pardon."

"We kiss for luck? I saw it on…"

"TV," Sarah finished, unable to contain her eye roll.

"Is it an inappropriate request?"

Sarah thought back on all they had been through. All that Cameron had saved her from.

Cromartie, countless thugs, hell, she'd jumped Sarah over her own damn death. Cameron might want a kiss for luck but it seemed the machine was Sarah's personal lucky charm. One good turn deserved another. "No, Cameron, it's not… inappropriate."

The machine closed her eyes and jutted her chin slightly forward, presenting her lips for Sarah.

Now firmly convinced that she had suffered one too many concussions, Sarah bent down, bussing Cameron lightly on the lips. It was… unexpected. She thought Cameron would be somehow… rubbery or artificial. Instead, soft lips -molded to near perfection- were warm and pliable beneath hers. The trill of pleasure that ran through Sarah's body at the brief contact did nothing to aid her floundering attempts to remind herself that she was Cameron was a machine.

The soft kiss ended quickly, more of a peck than anything but it was enough to throw Sarah off balance. She fought the urge to lean in again, instead taking a decided step away from the machine and squaring her stance.

"Feeling lucky?"

"Your salinity level is imbalanced, there is an excess of sodium on your lips."

"…Are you saying I taste salty?"

"Yes."

Sarah shook her head, holding her damaged arm tightly to her chest as she visualized exactly where the bag of explosives was.

"Sarah?"

She spared a glance for the machine who was steadily becoming a woman in her eyes.

"Yes, Cameron?"

"I like salty."

Despite what lay before them, Sarah couldn't help but smile. "Ready?"

At Cameron's steady nod, Sarah bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, ready to sprint for the bag. Cameron activated the door, heavy cement and metal sliding away, exposing them to the terminator who guarded the entrance. Two quick shots hit Cameron square in the chest before the clatter of the sniper rifle assured the Triple Eight had discarded the weapon. His body slid through the widening doorway with a grace that would have amazed Sarah, if she had thoughts to spare for anything but the C-4 and detonators lying beyond him.

She dove past him, metal fingers brushing the back of her collar, unable to grasp her as she hit the sandy ground. She didn't look back as she pushed herself to her feet, trusting Cameron to do her job. Boots dug into soft turf, propelling her to the backpack that would make their seventy percent likelihood of death worth it. She grabbed the pack, leaning against the stone face that the bunker had been set into.

Fingers, long accustomed to the intricacies of bomb building, quickly sank the detonators into the blocks of C-4. Eight altogether. Enough to blow the facility, not enough to alert anyone who might be watching. She took a moment to find Cameron, her machine duking it out with her larger counterpart and losing. Badly.

Damn it.

One particularly well placed shoved sent the smaller machine tumbling down the side of the small ravine, a cloud of dust behind her.

Double damn.

The Triple Eight wasted no time in turning his attention to Sarah, metallic body gleaming in the sunlight. Tucking a single block of C-4 and its partner charge into her cargo pocket, Sarah reached into the bag and flicked on the timers for the other seven. One chance to do it right. Gripping the bag by the shoulder straps, Sarah ran for the terminator whose broad body was braced and ready for the insignificant impact.

His hands went out to grab her, aiming for her throat as she threw herself to the ground, sliding neatly between his legs. She had barely made it past his feet when a metallic hand wrapped around her broken wrist, squeezing tight. Didn't matter. Sarah released the bag, the last of her momentum carrying it forward across smooth cement to stop dead center in the bunker. The machine tossed her carelessly to the side, advancing to retrieve the explosives. That wouldn't work, she needed to buy thirty more seconds. She had to get his attention. What was more important than his mission?

Her.

"Hey! Chrome Dome! Look at me! I'm Sarah Connor."

The Triple Eight turned to her, metallic teeth smiling their deadly grin.

_Bad idea, Connor. Bad fucking idea._

"That's right you overgrown toaster, I'm the mother of John Connor. Come and get me."

His steps stuttered, as if computing whether her death or his mission were more important. Decided, it turned on her, bright eyes fixed upon their human target.

_All right Connor, you got his attention, now what?_

"Sarah!" Cameron's voice, laced with a previously unheard panic, echoed across the small valley. "Run!"

Not yet. She couldn't allow the Triple Eight the option to grab both her and the explosives. She had to stand her ground, make him choose. If she were lucky, she'd get the chance to duck before the explosion, shield herself from some of the blast.

"Sarah!"

She ignored Cameron and stared at her enemy, tamping down on her every instinct that told her to bolt as the Triple Eight advanced.

"Come and get me you son of a…" Sarah's words were cut off as a hand grasped her ankle, tugging her down the embankment. Sarah rolled down the hill as Cameron charged up, heading straight for the enemy terminator.

This was it. Her chance to run. The charges were set and Cameron -determined pitbull that she was- was keeping the Triple Eight occupied. Sarah could escape. Mission accomplished.

One look at her loyal protector guaranteed otherwise. How could she abandon the machine who had given so much to keep her safe?

"Cameron! That's enough! We need to go!"

The machines were moving too close to the bunker. Another few steps and…

When everything settled -the blood from her ears dried and eyes recovered from the bright blast- Sarah would realize the explosion was unlike anything she had ever experienced. For one startling moment, the world turned white, everything around her washed out by the sheer magnitude of the explosion's flash. Sarah's eyes found Cameron's in the split second preceding the worst of it, gaze locked in what was the machine's most stunning show of emotion.

Abject sorrow. In those precious moments when the world shattered, Sarah would have resolutely sworn she watched Cameron's heart shatter with it.

Then, Sarah was airborne, damaged body aimed toward some distant point on the ground, twenty feet away and ten feet down the embankment. She landed with a grunt, body contracting and closing in on itself in a primal defence of the fragile organs that lay within. The pursuing roll sent her face first into a boulder, damaged arm unable to rise in time to save her nose from breaking though she thought she saved her ribs.

Pain shot through her face, lancing behind her eyes as she rolled onto her back, willing the world to appear in front of flash burned eyes.

_Deep breaths, Connor. In. Out. Assess the damage. Contain, compartmentalize. Fucking move._

Ignoring the pain, denying the sound of snapping her nose back into place, Sarah pushed herself to her knees, sweeping her hands across the sand.

"Cameron?" Had her terminator made it through the blast? Had the Triple Eight? She paused in her tactile search, focusing her concentration on her slightly less damaged senses.

There.

The whir of pistons moving. Not moving well, mind you, but moving none the less. She blinked, willing her eyes to focus, the periphery of her vision beginning to clear. Not permanently blinded then.

Small graces.

Another rapid round of blinking brought the mayhem into view. Cameron lay lifeless on the ground, her mobile enemy beside her, a body crushing boulder raised overhead.

Stay and die or run.

As much as Sarah had always taught John to flee -to live and fight another day- she found herself unable to follow her own advice. Apparently neither Connor knew how to run.

"In it to win it, Connor."

She slid the remaining detonator deep into the plastique, keeping the manual switch in her pocket. With a guttural yell that spoke of her every frustration, Sarah charged. The steep slope of the embankment and the weight of the boulder held in the Triple Eight's hands worked in her favour. She hit him low in the legs, wrapping her arms around his ankle to ensure he couldn't recover as they fell. As they rolled down the embankment, Sarah shoved the plastique beneath his sternum, nearly sacrificing her fingertips in the process as his metal body contorted with each impact. They slid to a stop at the base and Sarah loosed herself from his grip, her shirt taking the worst of the damage as she shimmied free.

Now or never. She was in no condition to fight and she wouldn't gain any ground on him trying to run uphill. Hopefully his metal endoskeleton would contain the worst of the blast.

Damned if she didn't go out with a bang.

Boots slipping in the loose sand as she ran, Sarah reached into her pocket to flip the detonator switch, the Triple Eight's mechanical steps trailing behind her.

Close.

Probably too close.

What was it her mother had always said? Que sera.

Sarah flipped the switch, the click meeting her ears just as the explosion hit her from behind. It was relatively contained. At least, it didn't blow her fool head off. It did drive her to the ground, the head of the destroyed Triple Eight landing neatly beside her in the sand. Red eyes glowed, flickered and went dark. She fumbled for her pocket knife, reaching over to pop the protective cap off the chip and pull it free.

Satisfied that she was –for the moment- somewhat out of danger, Sarah rolled onto her back, eyes closing against the bright sun. Damn. That had been close. Tugging her injured arm to her chest to alleviate the pressure, she inhaled deeply, disgruntled to find herself unable to do so. Her broken nose was clogged with blood, was in fact still bleeding.

Ah, so it wasn't just sweat leaking down her neck. Gross.

Despite the swelling that threatened to seal her eyes, Sarah's gaze scoured the area for Cameron. There she was, halfway up the hill, in the exact same position Sarah had left her well over a minute ago.

That wasn't right.

Cameron might have gone into a restore mode after the initial explosion but the reboot process ought to be complete. At the very least, Sarah should see the involuntary twitches as Cameron's CPU completed the physical diagnostic.

Nothing.

"Cameron!" Pushing herself to her feet, Sarah ran for the downed machine, tripping in the sand in her haste. Unwilling to slow, she scrambled across the sand in a half crawl, half run to get to her companion. "Cameron!"

Sarah grabbed Cameron by the shoulder, awkwardly pushing her back and forth until the momentum rolled her over. Sarah cringed at the damage, porcelain skin charred to the endoskeleton across the better part of Cameron's face.

If Cameron were human, Sarah would know what to do. Search for a pulse, breathing, obvious signs of trauma. With Cameron, she was unusually useless and near panic because of it. She had no way of checking Cameron for internal damage and wouldn't know how to repair it if she could.

Her injuries even prevented her from giving in to her utterly useless but completely necessary desire to shake Cameron into wakefulness. Fucking damn it. What could she do? Miles from her vehicle, miles beyond that before she'd get anything resembling a cell phone signal.

The sun overhead affirmed that time was of the essence. The second Triple Eight was no doubt close to the city by now. She had precious little time to form a plan.

She couldn't move Cameron, not all the way back to the Jeep. Even in top shape, a trek like that would have been difficult. No explosives left to set traps, the bunker demolished, Cameron out of commission. Sarah had no choice. She had to leave the machine behind.

The thought of abandoning Cameron, who had so doggedly worked to keep her safe, left a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't like tossing away a broken tool, it felt like leaving a comrade behind. A…friend.

Fuck sake. She was emotional over a machine. A built killer. Derek was going to have a field day. Hating herself all the more for what she knew was necessary, Sarah flipped open her pocket knife. Taking Cameron's damaged face in hand, Sarah gently turned her head to expose her chip cover. There was simply too much information on the chip -in Cameron's brain- to allow it to fall into enemy hands.

"I'm sorry, Girlie." Steeling herself against the reluctance in her heart, she popped open the cap, the 'whish' of the seal a death knoll. That was it then.

Cameron was gone.

Sarah turned her face to the sky, eyes closed in quiet mourning. She didn't necessarily believe in God –who could after what she had seen- but she did believe in her son. She thanked the Future John in her mind, grateful to have had such steadfast protection.

Squeezing the lifeless hand of her companion a final time, Sarah turned toward the Jeep and ran.

The sun was low in the sky when she crested the final dune, the Jeep finally in view. Unsteady legs shook as Sarah picked her way down, leather boots chafing at heels that had long since been rubbed raw. Her eyes, nearly sealed shut from the swelling, watered in the bright light of the setting sun.

The three and a half hour trek back to the Jeep had been nothing short of totally defeating. More than once -without permission or warning- her battered body had simply collapsed, dumping her in rough sand.

She would wait for the nausea to subside –it never left completely- before dragging herself up by her metaphorical bootstraps to continue until the next collapse.

The final step to the Jeep threatened to launch her face first into the side panel of the driver's side door as she tripped over her own legs. Instinctively reaching out to slow her fall, her damaged hand hit the door ripping a gut wrenching scream from her parched throat.

Her exhaustion, her frustration, the pain, the loss of… of Cameron pressed down on her, her emotions a near physical force that seemed bent on keeping her in the dirt.

She'd lost Cameron. The machine who had gone from necessary evil to appreciated tool to reluctantly accepted team member to companion and friend. And Sarah had lost her.

No.

A familiar rage, well tended over the past seventeen years, flared within her. She hadn't lost Cameron. The machines had taken her, like they had taken so many other things.

Kyle.

Dyson.

Sarah's future.

John's future.

"No." Sarah's hand fisted around Cameron's chip. No. The machines couldn't have Cameron. Couldn't have her son's best protector. Couldn't have her best protector Couldn't have one more fucking inch in the miles they travelled to wipe humanity from existence.

One hand on the door handle, Sarah pulled herself to her feet, trembling fingers searching her pocket for her keys. Maneuvering the key into the lock was nearly as frustrating as the ten mile hike, metal scraping uselessly against metal.

When she finally pulled the door open, she slid as delicately as possible into the drivers' seat and turned the engine over, AC cranked to full. Reaching into the back seat, she tugged a water bottle from cooler.

A few quick swipes with a makeshift cloth cleaned the worst of the blood from her face. A long pull finished the water bottle and with her map splayed across the steering wheel, she threw the Jeep into gear. Sarah scoured the map as she drove, bloodied finger leaning a red trail across the paper. There had been a derelict road leading up to the bunker, where was it?

There! Ten miles north. The rough terrain jarred painfully at her body as the rugged vehicle bumped along. Sarah tried to mentally calculate how much time she had, thoughts slow as they waded through a fog of exhaustion and dehydration. Couldn't be more than an hour before the second Triple Eight returned with whatever it needed to blast open the bunker.

She was cutting it close.

One particularly bad gear shift had her seeing stars as the Jeep stuttered and bucked, the wheel turning violently as she rested her damaged arm over it for control. Damn that had hurt.

The road turnoff was sudden, Sarah's reaction more so. She wrenched on the wheel, threatening to send the SUV over, the passenger's wheels leaving the ground only to land with a teeth jarring thud. The terrain that lay before her could only be loosely considered a road, more a compilation of dirt ruts that threatened to pull her wheels off track and leave her in the ditch.

She lost the sun just as she pulled up to the bunker, the last of the bright light dying behind the mountains. Throwing the Jeep into reverse, she backed her way down to Cameron. The machine lay where Sarah had left her, slight body peaceful in the sand.

Exiting the Jeep, Sarah popped open the rear door, pushing the camping gear to the side to make room for Cameron. Now what the hell was she going to do? She barely held Cameron up when the machine had been operating under her own steam. A full on dead lift with a broken wrist was going to be… interesting.

Deciding she would let the slope of the hill do some of the work, Sarah grabbed Cameron by her tank top with her good hand. Wrapping her injured arm around Cameron's back to hold them steady, she took a knee.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Sarah shimmied downhill, pulling the top half of Cameron's body down to drape over her shoulder. A deep breath through her mouth to be sure didn't pass out from the strain and Sarah stood. Her knees instantly buckled under the weight, sheer stubborn will preventing Sarah from hitting the deck.

Five steps and she could drop Cameron on the Jeep's tailgate.

Five. The lactic build up in her muscles was akin to battery acid as she willed her body to do her bidding.

Four. Her left leg cramped, the rattlesnake bite from three days earlier burning across her thigh.

Three. Sarah's shoulder dropped under Cameron's weight. The slide of the machine's body stopped as Sarah forced her damaged hand to clamp down and hold her in place.

Two. Her knees nearly touched the ground, Cameron's weight at least double that of a human her size.

One. Her left leg began to give, the cramp causing a twitch that nearly sent them both to the ground.

Every ounce of energy left went into the final, desperate lunge, Cameron's body landing on the tailgate with an indelicate thud. Sarah held on to the tailgate for dear life, trying to fight back the nausea that had black spots dancing through her vision. Artful arranging of limp limbs saw Cameron stowed, sleeping bags and tent piled overtop to hide her from prying eyes.

Knowing she was likely to meet the Triple Eight on the road, Sarah killed her headlights as she pulled up the slope and headed away from the bunker. Reaching under her seat, she retrieved her secondary pistol, resting her forearm on the slide to pull it back.

She bumped along the dark road until she spotted headlights in the distance. A quick shift and she reversed into the nearest ditch, settling the vehicle behind a patch of desert brush. It wasn't a lot of cover but better than nothing.

Holding her breath as the vehicle drove by –the fleshy Triple Eight in the driver's seat- Sarah waited until his taillights disappeared around the curve. Another ten seconds and she restarted the engine, quietly pulling out of the ditch. Flicking on her lights, she drove as fast as prudence allowed.

She had a thirty minute head start at best, she had to make it count.

Twenty more miles and the Jeep skidded around the corner to the highway, throaty engine growling as Sarah pushed it into fifth gear. She pursed her lips as the fuel gauge ticked lower, just over an eighth of a tank, she needed fuel. The jerricans in the back were full but no way was Sarah going to manage the twenty five litres with one arm. She wasn't going have any choice but to pull off.

Shit.

She bit the bullet at the next stop, ignoring the stares of the clerk as he came out to pump her gas.

"Fill it up."

With that, she walked into the small store, snagging the key to the washroom as she passed the counter. A quick run of the shelves and her basket was loaded with duct tape, a bottle of aspirin and a handful of icepacks.

Flicking on the light in the washroom, she set to work. She washed the blood from her face and chest, careful not to disturb her nose. A quick snap of the broom in the supply closet gave her a makeshift splint that she wrapped around her wrist with duct tape. A second layer of tape held freshly cracked icepacks against her skin. Four painkillers and a gulp of murky tap water and she was on her way.

She collected four bottles of electrolyte drink and some beef jerky from the stand, throwing five twenties onto the counter for compensation. She passed the attendant as he entered, wordlessly pointing to the money as she headed for her truck.

Less than ten minutes after pulling off, she was back on track, tank full, mouth working on a wad of jerky, the bright lights of Los Angeles winking at her on the horizon.

tbc…


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Apologies for such an unexpectedly long hiatus.

As always, comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated. Enjoy!

Sarah pulled up to the house, resisting the urge to simply lay on the horn to rouse John and Derek. She didn't need to draw attention them anymore than was necessary.

A cursed followed her pained flinch as she released the seat belt, shouldering open her car door. Her legs barely held, the adrenalin in her body long since dissipated to leave only exhaustion in its wake. It took what remained of her personal resources to make it up the few steps to the door, spots flashing behind her eyes from the effort. Any kind of motor control near gone, Sarah simply took aim at the general vicinity of the doorbell and shouldered into it, holding down until she was certain the others had woken. A ruffling of the curtain at the door -she would talk to John about his lack of stealth later- and the door opened, her son's eyes wide with worry.

Lean arms wrapped around her body as her legs failed completely, her weight held fast by the wiry strength of her son. "Derek! Help!"

888

Sarah came to reluctantly, swollen eyes blinking against the harsh light that streamed into her bedroom. She tested sitting up -found her body wanted nothing to do with the movement- and settled back against the pillows.

Her gaze shifted to her broken wrist, now free of duct tape and broken broom handles to be replaced with a slightly less haphazard splint. Sarah didn't dare look for something to see her reflection. Her nose, eyes and sinuses felt on verge of exploding from the pressure. She probably looked about as good as she felt.

Dry lips worked to call out for the others, her throat parched to the point of uselessness. Thankfully, John made his way into the room before she decided to attempt something truly foolish, like standing.

"You're up!"

"Relatively speaking." She sipped greedily at the glass of water John offered. "How long?"

"Two days. You've been awake a couple of times but it wasn't for more than a few minutes."

She vaguely recalled his gentle voice coaxing her back to sleep at some point. "Cameron?"

"In her room. I... don't know what to do, Mom. We found her chip in your pocket, is she... was she compromised?"

"No," Sarah shook her head, regretting the motion instantly as a wave of nausea crashed over her. "I had to leave her behind, I couldn't risk the chip."

"She took a lot of superficial damage but she should have been mobile." John's confusion was evident in his voice.

"I don't know what's wrong. There was an explosion and she went down. She just didn't...reboot."

"Her chip looks okay." He pulled it from his pocket, holding it up in the sunlight for Sarah to see. "No corrosion, the circuits all look good. The explosion might have short circuited something internally, I'll see what I can do. You need some more rest, Charlie said you nearly died of sun stroke."

"I've been asleep for two days."

"With the way you look, you could use another week. Don't make me give you another one of these." John held up an orange pill bottle and Sarah vaguely recalled being force fed at some point. She didn't think the experience had been all that pleasant.

"Wake me up when you've figured out how to fix Cameron."

"Deal."

888

When Sarah was finally able to stay awake for more than five minutes at a time, she was chagrined to realize that she had been in and out of consciousness for the better part of five days. Her second splint had been replaced by a fibreglass cast at some point, the memory of the entire process muddled by her drug induced fugue.

Forcing away the lingering wariness, Sarah slipped from beneath the covers, bandaged feet hitting the hardwood. The cool floor was welcome relief, easing the swelling in toes that felt twice their normal size. Six shaky steps got her to the doorway, another three had her across the hall. Using the wall for support, Sarah continued until her hands met the door to Cameron's room.

She entered quietly to find Cameron propped up against her headboard, favoured aviator sunglasses settled on her nose. The large shades concealed her damaged eye but did little to hide the extensive trauma to her face. Sarah's eyes followed the computer cord leading from the base of Cameron's neck to John's laptop computer. His headphones were, muted music filtering out as he typed away diligently, cursing lowly at some mistake.

Sarah sank into the chair opposite him, settling against the uncomfortable wood back with a grunt that broke John from his work.

He was surprised to find her there, eyes widening as they went from the door to her and back again. She really needed to speak to him about environmental awareness. She added it to her mental list before turning to Cameron, her unspoken question clear. John pulled his headphones from his ears, letting them rest around his neck as he spoke.

"I put her chip in three days ago, she hasn't really moved since. She twitched at start-up but nothing since."

"Do we know why?"

"Yes and no. I know what's going on. I don't know why it's happening."

"John, I'm too tired for riddles."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with her physically."

Sarah quirked an eyebrow, if Cameron's damage was 'nothing' she was curious what was needed to classify it as 'something'.

"The damage from the explosion is fairly superficial. Her internal machinations weren't damaged all that much. I had to replace a piston in her wrist and repair a misaligned vertebrae. It's her chip that's the issue. She shut down during the explosion and rebooted but her system diagnostic keeps looping back on itself. That's why she's not moving. Her circuits are active, they're conducting repairs." John pointed to the healing edges of Cameron's burn as proof that she was functioning on some level. "But she's still unresponsive."

"Why is it looping?"

"I don't know. Like I said, the chip doesn't seem damaged. Was there anything nuclear when you set off the bombs?"

"God, I hope not. I don't remember seeing anything."

"Did the Triple Eight get caught in the blast?"

"Yeah, it did." Sarah's mind went back to Cameron and the Triple Eight, battling for dominance no more than fifty feet from ground zero.

John turned his computer toward her, pointing to a schematic. The split screen showcased a Triple Eight design on the left, a more detailed rendering of the main power core offset to the right.

"The Triple Eights are at least partially powered by a plutonium cell. It's pretty dilute d but if Cameron was near him when the bombs went off and his core was damaged, it might have created and EMP."

"You're telling me Cameron shut down because of an electromagnetic pulse?"

"It's the only thing I can think of that would send her chip down like that and force the system into a logging diagnostic."

"Explain."

"Cameron's chip has protection against EMPs but at extreme close range, it might have gotten through. The chip would have protected itself, probably sacrificing all but the most basic of programming. Things like experiences, secondary missions, local knowledge, would have all been wiped out as the circuits shut down to protect itself."

"Oh, God." Oh, no. "Cameron's...gone?"

"That's just it, she should be." John pointed to a programming chart that provided the laymans breakdown of the reboot procedure, dependent upon cause of the initial shut down. "But I don't think so. If Cameron's personality had been wiped, the chip would have booted with its baseline programming."

"And she would have killed me."

"Yeah. I don't know how she did it but Cameron managed to protect her secondary line of programming. Trouble is, the chip doesn't recognize it at this point and it's still trying to wipe it out and reboot clean. Sometimes the chip gets further along the reboot line, sometimes Cameron holds it off longer, like they're learning from each other."

"Are you telling me that Cameron's base programming is fighting her for control of her chip?"

"Pretty much. Every time the chip tries to delete... her, she shuts it down. The chip reboots and starts the diagnostic over."

"Is there any way to bypass that? Make the chip boot to Cameron's personality rather than to the base programming?" She recalled him attempting to explain something of the sort when he had picked up a virus on his computer.

"That what I'm trying to do, I'm not getting much of anywhere."

"Is Cameron aware, at all?"

"Somewhat, look." A quick flick of keys and he had tapped into some kind of audio feed. "See the spikes? That's me talking. Her chip is registering external stimuli, I'm just not sure what's being processed." Sitting back in his chair, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. The dark circles under his eyes spoke all she needed to know about him.

"Go to bed," she stated, her tone leaving him no room to argue. "You've tried your best and the last thing we need is you messing around in Cameron's brain making a mistake."

"But..."

She raised her arm, pointing to the door. With his typical disgruntled sigh, he left his computer on the chair and headed for the door.

"I've put alarms on the system, if the chip hits a certain point of the recovery process, we'll know in time to, well in time..."

"To stop her," Sarah finished. "If that chip reboots, she won't be Cameron anymore, John. That's something we have to be ready for." His curt nod showed it was a thought that had weighed heavily on his mind. He left her to herself, his footfalls leading to his bedroom.

Sarah watched the computer as it filtered the nonsense that was Cameron's code stream across the screen. A stutter, a pause then a full stop before the code went blank. Sixty seconds later the code flickered to life once more. She watched the exchange -for how long she didn't know- caught rapt by the mechanical logic of it all. It was akin to watching a heart rate monitor, the gentle blips and spikes serving as proof that the person attached was fighting the good fight. Even if that person was a machine.

But Cameron wasn't just a machine. She had proven it time and again. Her burgeoning emotions had changed her, made her.. more. Sarah was certain of it. She was equally certain those emotions were what kept Cameron fighting her erasure. She had feelings, needs. A desire for life.

Cameron's attachment to the life she had created was strong enough that she was actively fighting her most basic, deep seated part of her nature for control. Sarah knew what that was like, What it was to fight everything you were to become what you wanted to be. What you needed to be. It was difficult and scary and so much easier if...

"You're not alone," Sarah said, hand taking Cameron's, surprised as always that the artificially manufactured flesh was warm and natural to the touch. "I know you can hear me, I know you can understand me, so listen. You're not alone, Cameron. I'm here. You can fight this, I know you can, because of who you are. That's what being human is about. Fighting for life, for love. So I'm asking you, fight for me now. Please."

Cameron didn't respond. Sarah hadn't expected her to but she couldn't deny the sharp pang of disappointment that came quickly on the heels of the realization that there was no change.

"Sarah."

She turned to the doorway where Charlie stood beside Derek, both men looking at her as though she were a bug under a microscope. She finally understood when she followed their line of sight to her hand, wrapped firmly around Cameron's. With a final squeeze -that she would have sworn she felt returned- Sarah released her grip.

"I need to take a look at your bandages."

"We need to talk."

Both men spoke as one, taking a moment to glare at one another before jumping in to speak again.

"She needs to rest not..."

"She needs to know what's going on."

The argument was as much an assault to her ears as the explosion and Sarah held up a hand to silence them. "I'll meet you both in the kitchen, we can do the bandages while you get me up to speed." Her words were meant as a dismissal and she was grateful that they were taken as such. The men turned on their heels, clomping noisily down the hall.

Sarah pushed herself out of the chair, leaning over to inspect Cameron's ravaged face. The sheen of the metal skeleton wasn't nearly as off putting as Sarah thought it should have been. Maybe it was because she knew that metal, that strength, was the reason she was still breathing.

"I didn't haul my ass across the desert and double back to pick your half ton ass out of the sand just so you could give up on me because of some computer glitch. Fight, Cameron. You hear me? Fight."

Remembering the earnest and wondrous expression on Cameron's face,just before they had begun their attack, Sarah couldn't help but lean forward, pressing her lips softly to Cameron's.

"Kiss for luck," she whispered, brushing her hand over Cameron's check before straightening and heading for the kitchen.

888

Sarah sat at the kitchen table, presenting her arm to Charlie who promptly began to take her blood pressure.

"Let's have it," she said, eyes on Derek.

"We rigged the bunker, pulled out the M-21 round and disposed of it. No trouble. When the metal heads open it up the explosion will take out anything within a city block."

"Sounds like a good week's worth of work. What's the problem?"

"The problem is we've cut the head off this thing but the body isn't dead yet."

Derek slid a folder across the table, ignoring Charlie's aggrieved sigh as Sarah reached out to flip it open. There was their laser guy, staring placidly back at her from his employee profile shot.

"We assumed he had come up with his research on his own. He didn't, he was being funded by a company called Atlanta Corp."

Sarah flipped through the papers, keen eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary. "That's not unusual, being funded."

"No, but the company is. On the surface they're researching precision lasers for medical use, tumour reduction, micro surgery, eye surgery. Turns out they're also a subsidiary of a larger corporation that specializes in advanced robotics. They've been filtering results back and the tech has been showing up in things like targeting systems. We dug pretty deep and we think we've found a black ops division that's been working on an AI platform. Andy Goode's name popped up on their farm team."

Derek stared at her, waiting for her to connect the dots. It wasn't hard. The moment he said robotics she knew exactly where the conversation would lead.

"Skynet." They funded the research for the M-21s. "Wonderful." Derek's unwavering stare unnerved her. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nexus, the parent company, is in the running for a military contract. Automated armoured personal carriers, mechanized infantry, the works."

"Shit. If they get access to that kind of money and networking, they'll be no stopping it. We have to shut down that contract."

Derek nodded his agreement.

"How long do we have?"

"Bidding starts in two weeks. Contract is awarded the week after."

"Three weeks to save the world," Charlie chimed in. "No pressure."

Sarah sat at Cameron's side, reports and building schematics spread across the terminator's legs. She had started out in her own room, reports stacked high, John's music filtering through her vents. Her thoughts had been undeniably drawn to the machine and after twenty minutes of staring at the same page, Sarah had given up, collected her things and plopped down next to Cameron.

It was… comforting to be in Cameron's room, if only to be able to watch the monitor John had rigged up. She could now identify the base program from Cameron and every so often found herself sucked into watching the computer battle play out. The base program always started out the same, trying to boot to the deepest routed programming, Cameron would fight it until she couldn't then shut herself down to try again.

Sarah had initially thought it to be some sort of race, whichever piece of Cameron got to a certain boot point first, won. As she watched Cameron's code -eyes long trained to spot the tiniest of oddities- she learned it wasn't the case. The base part of the chip always booted the same but the flickering differences from Cameron's end showed she was constantly trying a new tactic. Her base programming would respond, counteracting until Cameron failed.

Cameron would force the chip to reboot and the process would start over. It was as though Cameron were playing chess with her own brain, attempting different tactics to defeat an opponent who checked her moves as quickly as she made them. The game had been going on for the better part of three days now, Cameron's physical features near healed, save for the worst of the burns around her eyes.

Giving the screen a final look, Sarah turned her attention back to the building schematic. Breaking into Nexus wasn't going to be pretty. As the head of the monster –the tendrils reaching far beyond what Sarah could see- it was the easiest place to hit. Whatever damage they did would filter down, hopefully enough to put a stop to Skynet's plans.

Delicate inquiring into some of their most expensive contacts confirmed that Nexus' AI platform -while still in its infancy- was a viable attempt at creating computer life. They needed to destroy it and any research that would allow the men responsible to recreate it.

While she worked on the entry plan, John kept himself busy researching Nexus and developing a virus that would wipe out theirs systems. If they could make it look like the AI had somehow caused the meltdown -proving it to be unreliable- so much the better.

"Hey."

Sarah looked up, eyes finding her son who looked more than pleased with himself.

"What's up?"

"I've been looking into Nexus, trying to figure out who the heavy hitters are."

She nodded, she had put him on the assignment. So far he had turned up very little, the owners and share holders of the company clouded in a somewhat murky pond of subsidiaries, front corporations and false identification.

"I've found the head researcher at the Nexus labs, he sits on the board. If we can get to him, maybe we can make him talk."

Sarah pursed her lips, that meant exposing them a little more than she was comfortable with. Still, couldn't hurt to look, how much trouble could one lab geek be, anyway?

John handed her the folder. Sarah flipped it open, eyes landing on the familiar face of a square jawed man who muscles strained his lab coat to the point of near bursting the seam. Yeah, that about figured.

"Is it just me," John asked, "or does he look kind of like the Governor?"

It was never easy.

888

"You're telling me that a Triple Eight is running the AI division of Nexus?" Derek asked, pacing to and fro across the living room as he rubbed at what had developed into an eleven o'clock shadow. A razor! It wasn't a hard concept!

"It makes sense, what better way to keep track of how things are going. If it is Skynet, he can help it along, if it's not…"

"Skynet removes the competition, great. I'm feeling better already. Now what?"

"We continue as planned," Sarah said. "It doesn't change anything. We still need to bring Nexus down, now more than ever."

"That place is a fortress and its guard dog took Cameron out without much fuss. How the hell are we going to get in?"

"I'm hearing a lot of problems but no solutions, we're not getting anywhere by bitching. Let's just find a way to do this without getting us all killed."

Seeming to sense she was at the end of her somewhat limited patience, Derek shut up. Satisfied that he knew his place, she stood.

"Where are you going? I thought we were working on battle plans."

"To check on Cameron." Not that the machine needed checking, alarms would go off if things went bad. It just... made her feel better.

Derek's mirthless chuckle echoed through the living room. "You don't get it, do you? Cameron is gone, she's fried. Her program is going to overwrite her and then you're going to have one pissed off piece of metal on your hands."

Sarah didn't look directly at John but from the corner of her eye, she saw his head drop. Derek's words had hit home.

"The best thing any of us can do right now is rip that chip out of her head and melt it down with the rest of her before she wakes up and snaps our necks."

"You go anywhere near her…" John stood, fists balled, lean body coiled and ready to strike.

"You'll do what, John?"

"I'll kill you," Sarah broke in, words calm, tone leaving no room for misinterpretation as she stepped in front of her son. Derek stared her down, testing her will as he moved forward, stubbled chin jutted out in challenge.

"You'd kill me, over a machine," he sniffed, "whose side are you on?"

"Mine. Cameron is the best chance we have of getting past the Triple Eight and bringing down Nexus. Potentially bringing down Skynet. I won't let you take that opportunity away. Whatever your issue are, deal with it somewhere else. So long as you're under my roof, on my team, you'll play by my rules."

He sniffed again. "You sure you even know what game you're playing?" With that, he shouldered past her, the door slamming behind him. She let out a relieved sigh, turning when John squeezed her good wrist.

"Thanks, Mom."

"He's right, you know." Sarah said, her words grudging. "Cameron can't keep this up forever. Sooner or later one of them will lose, trouble won't even begin to cover it if Cameron gets wiped."

"I know." His nod showed his mind had strayed into similar territory. "I just, I couldn't let him kill her without giving her a chance to fight."

"She's had five days, John. Two more. We give her a week, if she hasn't sorted it out, we have to shut her down. I can't be worried about her turning on us while we try to deal with Nexus."

"I'll find a way to help her." John's determined look showed he would be doing little else.

"Do what you can, John." She squeezed his shoulder and headed for Cameron's room, taking her seat in the leather recliner John had dragged in when she had first started her vigil. "Two days, Girlie. You hear me? You've got two days to get your shit together."

She reached out for the machine, the feel of Cameron's hand in hers now familiar after five days by her bedside.

"Please, Cameron. Don't make John do this. Don't make me do this." Losing a friend was one thing. Killing a friend… "I need you to come back to me, Cameron. That's an order."

Her eyes went to the screen, monitor going dark before the beep of a reboot sounded and Cameron's game began again.

888

Two hours later, eyes nearly crossed from scouring the schematics, Sarah sat back. If she saw one more blueprint, she was liable to scream. She stood, stretching her back as much as her bruised ribs allowed and walked over to Crackers. The little mouse sniffed at her as he always did and she offered him one of his treats. An attempt to interact with the rodent outside its cage had led to the unfortunate circumstance of John trying to lure him out of her cast.

She had continued to feed Crackers but left the actual handling to John. Her son didn't seem to actually care for the animal, his care more a desire for everything to be as Cameron left it rather than any real affection for the animal itself.

"You're kinda cute but you get into a lot of trouble. Don't you?"

Treat complete, Crackers lost interest in her, returning to his wheel to continue on his never ending journey. Sarah caught her reflection in the TV as she headed back for the chair, frowning at the well developed raccoon eyes that had followed quickly on the heels of her swelling nose. The swelling had mostly subsided but an ill timed sneeze had left her seeing stars. Grabbing the remote to Cameron's TV, Sarah settled back in the chair flipping idly through the channels for something that wasn't 'reality', Law and Order or a CSI. Honestly, hadn't any of these producers heard of a sitcom? She paused on one channel, lips curling up at the program. Perfect.

"Hey, Cam, check it out," Sarah gently nudged the machine with her foot. "Nutcracker. Make you a deal, you wake up and I'll make the popcorn."

No response. She sighed, thumbing up the volume as she watched the dancers prance across the stage, lithe bodies twisting in ways Sarah could barely conceive of.

She lost herself in the ballet, barely registering when she reached out for Cameron's hand, determined to see the young woman through to the end. Sleep came swift and unexpected, pulling her down into the black.

When she woke -TV blaring some odd looking, hyper active man hocking a vegetable chopper- Sarah searched for what had pulled her from her dreams. A voice? A breeze? Eyes widened as the pressure tightened around her fingers. A squeeze.

Sarah checked the computer, Cameron's line of code dominating the screen.

"Cameron!" She locked their fingers, squeezing tight to show her companion she wasn't alone. Sleepy eyes, miles behind a suddenly alert brain, searched the monitor for some kind of change. There! Cameron's code had managed a longer run, she had accessed some kind of gross motor control.

"That's it, Cameron. Keep trying." Sarah cursed as the base programming managing to rout whatever Cameron tried next, forcing the sequence to stutter, stop, then shut down altogether. It was okay, Sarah knew it was. The chip would boot the same way it always did and Cameron would test her way around each blockade until she made it through.

Sure in that knowledge, hand closed tightly around that of the machine, Sarah fell back to sleep.

888

"Mom! Mom!"

The persistent shoves threw her out of her dream -the first pleasant one in months- and Sarah fought down the urge to bark at her son for such an abrupt awakening.

"What is it?"

"Look!" They turned to the screen, Cameron's code clearly dominating that of the chip. "She's almost there, she's going to make it."

"Did you…"

"Not me. I was still working on a way to get the chip to boot to Cameron and bypass the rest. This isn't me, this is her. She's found a way around."

"Good. Great. Okay," she contained her excitement, not eager to show her son just how worried she had been. "Any idea how much longer?"

"An hour, maybe less."

"All right, get back to work on that virus. We have less than a week before bidding starts." She chose to ignore his slightly crestfallen look. "Now, John. Cameron's fighting her battle, we can't forget ours. She'll be fine."

It was, in fact, over an hour before Cameron regained enough control to respond to rudimentary commands and two hours beyond that before she would open her eyes.

It was a decidedly mechanical recovery. Where most would blink and slowly waken, Cameron was simply there. Eyes open, alert and immediately searching.

"You did it." Without concern, without thought, Sarah leaned forward, brushing her lips to Cameron's forehead. "Welcome back."

There was no mistaking the smile on the porcelain face, dark eyes shining with a life, an intensity that Sarah hadn't seen before.

"I heard you. I…" Cameron paused, seeming to search her brain, "…got my shit together."

Sarah chuckled, finally feeling as though she could breathe for the first time in a week. "Yes, you did, Girlie. Yes, you did." Their protector was back. Whole. They had denied Skynet this one, small victory. It felt good.

"Sarah?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we get a Slap Chop?"


	11. Chapter 11

I own nothing. *le sigh*

***Author's Note**: I have all kinds of excuses for why this took so long but none of them are particularly enthralling. I have the next two chapters completed -just in need of edits- and that _should_ get us to the end of our adventure. With any luck, they'll go up in quick succession over the next week or so.

As always, comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

**888**

Three days later, Sarah sat at the dented formica table, Derek giving the low down of the Nexus facility. He had slipped into the facility on a reconnaissance mission, paying one of the low level guards a small fortune to give him a tour of the area.

"I think we can make it through the ventilation system, here." Sarah pointed to a large external vent, just inside the fenced perimeter of the Nexus compound. It was likely welded closed and under surveillance but between John's brains and Cameron's brawn that wasn't an insurmountable obstacle.

"It leads into the basement of the compound but the tunnels are guarded," Derek, clad in a Nexus security uniform, pointed to the sentry positions. "They're relay switches, one guard relieves at Sector A who sends the other to Sector B and down the line. There's no point where they leave their post unattended, they have floating guards who patrol around here and here." He slid his finger to encompass a large area in the lower levels that Cameron had suggested was the likeliest place for the server farm.

"What about here?" Sarah laid her finger on another vent system, following it from the outskirts of the compound proper into the depths of the facility.

"You'd have to move fast. There's no guard but that's probably because the main generators vent steam through those pipes every five to six minutes."

It was a good four hundred metres of vent, laughable if she were upright, a little more of a challenge when army crawling through a vent.

"I can disable the primary guard station," Cameron said, tipping over the green army man at the front gate. "Derek Reese can man the gates while we enter the facility."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, she hadn't considered going up to knock on the front door as a viable option.

"They check the front gates every twenty minutes and they'll know something is up when the relief isn't who it's supposed to be. There's no way to get in and out in under twenty. It'll take that long just to get down to the computers and upload the virus."

Considering the guards, the Triple Eight and the explosives, Sarah was reasonably convinced that needing to get out wasn't going to be an issue. She had already accepted the mission as a one way trip.

"Let's deal with getting into the place for now, once the charges are set I'll... make up the rest as I go."

"If we're going in, it would probably be good to have at least some semblance of a plan to get out," John argued.

"Then I'll backtrack. There's only one way in once you hit the level where they're storing their computers. And_ we_ are not going in. I am. You're staying in the truck." Sarah turned to Cameron who stared placidly back at her. "You too."

"That greatly decreases the statistical likelihood of your..."

"Mom! You can't be serious! You..."

Sarah held up a hand to silence them both. "I'm not risking either of you on this. You're too important and you're too great of an asset to him."

"The Triple Eight..."

"Won't even know I'm there until the virus is uploaded and the building is just a hole in the ground."

John pursed his lips, barely short of a full on pout. She knew the look, he was gauging how far he could push her on the issue. "Fine, I'll stay. But you have to take Cameron."

Sarah was about to remind him that it wasn't a negotiation when he spoke again.

"I can't hack Nexus from the outside. The virus has to be uploaded locally. No offense, Mom but you're not good with computers. Cameron can sync up with the server, bypass the security protocols and upload the virus."

"Connect Cameron to the AI?" Sarah didn't care for the sound of that. The AI was the wild card in the deck, there was no way to know how advanced it was. Leashing Cameron to something that unknown could spell trouble for the machine. Derek voiced his own concerns before Sarah could get to hers.

"You want to give chrome dome access to a fledgling AI? Are you fucking nuts? What happens if she flips?"

"We've had this argument before," Sarah said, her tone dismissive as her eyes found those of the machine, doing her best to convey her trust in the other woman. "Cameron didn't betray us then, she won't betray us now."

"That's right, I forgot, you two are all buddy buddy now." Derek looked between Sarah and Cameron. "Don't be stupid, you're letting that hunk of metal get in to your head."

"Enough." Sarah closed her eyes, willing herself to maintain her temper before she let loose on the man. She understood his concerns but the issue wasn't up for debate. "John, Cameron go work on the virus." Neither of the pair moved, eyes on Derek. "Now, please."

Cameron's glare could have reduced stone to rubble as she brushed past Derek to follow John to his room.

"You need to stop undermining me," Sarah said, once they were alone. She knew Derek was a good soldier -a good man- but there was only room for one general in this war and until John took on that mantle she'd be damned if someone pushed her around in her own home.

"You need to wake up before you get John killed. What happens if that experiment of yours can't perform under pressure?"

She broke in midway through his speech, raising her voice to talk over him. "There is nothing to think she would turn on us."

"What happens if that precious 'evolution' of her lets her act on her own and she gives Skynet a boost?"

"I'm not having this discussion!" Sara stared at him, chin stubbornly raised to meet his. "I trust her."

"That's because you keep thinking with your dick and not your head."

The punch caught them both off guard, Derek's head snapping back as Sarah's knuckles connected with his jaw.

She couldn't fault him for his reaction, which was to haul off with a back hand that split her lip. She stumbled back at the force of it, body colliding with a solid wall of warmth that propped her up by her arms.

Seemingly satisfied Sarah wasn't in danger of collapsing, Cameron let go, advancing on Derek with mechanical precision. Before his hand could make it to the Glock tucked in his jeans, Cameron had his wrist in a grip that bordered on bone crushing. A second slender hand wrapped around on his throat, Derek's face instantly crimson as his air supply was cut off. He tugged fruitlessly on her wrist to dislodge her.

His knees buckled, body hitting the hardwood floor, blue eyes rolling back as Cameron held her ground.

"Cameron, that's enough."

The machine turned to Sarah, expression grim, a ghostly blue shining beneath chocolate brown eyes.

"Cameron, enough. That's an order."

There was a twitch, a pause, before Cameron slowly relinquished her grip. Derek slid bonelessly to the floor, coughing and sputtering as he pushed himself away from Cameron.

"It's done." Sarah declared, looking between Cameron and Derek. They wouldn't get anywhere fighting against each other. Derek stood, fists balled, the machine stepping forward in challenge. Sarah slid between them, hands up to keep them out of reach of each other. Cameron's expression bordered on mutinous, Derek's equally so, both seeming to gauge how serious she was about keeping them apart. "I said, it's done." Her eyes found Cameron's, hoping the machine had learned enough to read the silent plea in her gaze.

Cameron took a calculated step back, out of Derek's range but close enough to put herself ahead of Sarah if the situation called for it. The courtesy wasn't lost on the elder Connor.

Seeing he wouldn't get the fight he was itching for, Derek wasted no time in storming off, door slamming behind him. Sarah sighed, flicking her tongue absently at the cut corner of her mouth, before she turned to Cameron. The machine was in midst of picking up a tissue box, offering a tissue to Sarah for her lip. Sarah took it, torn between thanking the machine for stepping in or blasting her for trying to mother her. She settled instead for a question.

"What the hell was that?"

"A tissue."

"Don't use that super literal crap on me. You know what I meant."

Cameron blinked. "It was an aggressive response to Derek Reese's hostile behaviour."

"No shit," Sarah deadpanned. "That's why I asked 'what the hell'? I thought you had your emotions in check."

"Apparently not."

"Apparently not? Cameron..." Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose, a long ingrained habit to ward off an impending headache. The move was so instinctual, she had already applied pressure before good sense kicked in and reminded her that squeezing a recently broken nose wasn't one of her shining moments. "Cameron, this is an issue."

"His hostility is an issue. My response was logical. I've seen it. People react negatively to others who damage someone they have a positive relationship with. It's how you reacted to his hostile remark about me."

Ah. There was that migraine she had been expecting. Right on time. It was true, Sarah couldn't exactly fault Cameron for the logic, given her own display. Damn the machine.

"Okay, let's forget for a minute that you lost your temper," Sarah said, willfully pushing away the knowledge that she had a terminator capable of throwing a tantrum. "You disobeyed an order," Sara accused, eyes locked on Cameron, daring the machine to dispute her.

"I released Derek Reese."

"You hesitated. You weren't obeying my order because you had to. You chose to release him."

Cameron remained silent, neither confirming nor denying Sarah's observation.

"You've done it, haven't you? Something you did while you were beating your base programming, you're fully autonomous." Sarah reached over, hand brushing through chestnut hair, passing over the chip that contained everything that Cameron was.

"Yes, I am no longer anyone's butt monkey."

"All right, I... wait, what?"

"Is that not an appropriate pop culture term?"

"I... I don't even know what a butt monkey is."

"I saw it on..."

"TV, yeah, I get it. We will address your taste in television later but right now we have a more pressing issue."

"I have free will."

"You have free will." Sara sat heavily on the couch, bloodied Kleenex worried to tatters in her uncasted hand.

"You are disturbed."

"I'm concerned." Sarah admitted, wishing she wasn't. It was a lot easier to trust Cameron not to turn coat when she had been programmed not to. Now... "I didn't really need another variable to worry about."

Cameron sat beside her, mirroring Sarah's position, hands on knees, leaning deep into the seat cushions. "You do not need to worry about me."

"I don't, huh?" Sarah closed her eyes, wondering how her simple mission to save her son, his future, had become such a goddamn clusterfuck. A soft hand laced with her own, inhumanly strong fingers gently squeezing.

"No, I fight for you, Sarah."

Sarah opened her eyes, staring into Cameron's face, searching for signs of deception. Seeing none, she asked all she could think to ask. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, Cameron, 'why'? Why fight for us when it's your choice, to stay or go, humans or machines, why fight for me?"

The answer was simple, logical and decidedly Cameron.

"Because you asked me too."

**888**

Sarah cursed at her third failed attempt to seal a plastic bag around her cast. Two weeks in, the fibreglass monstrosity had proved to be nothing shy of completely frustrating. Every time she wanted to move a box of files, or carry a laundry basket, or fetch groceries, she was forced to ask for help. Cameron had been near glued to her side, every questionably heavy item plucked from Sarah's reach before she could even put voice to her requests. Still, not being able to do for herself was starting to take its toll. And now, after a frustrating day of playing sit and stare at the Nexus compound, all she wanted was a proper, skin scalding, muscle tenderizing, hot shower, was that too much to ask?

"Damn it!" She ripped the bag from her arm, tossing it to the tile floor and resigning herself to the inferiority of soaking in the bath. A quiet knock at the door stopped her from turning on the faucets.

"Sarah, are you all right?" Cameron asked, voice traveling easily through the barrier of the thin door.

Sarah huffed at the question, biting back a sharp retort that she had no reason to blast Cameron with. Deciding a shower was worth sacrificing this much of her pride, she adjusted her towel over her body and opened the door.

"Did you fall?"

"No, I... wanted a shower." Sarah opened the door to allow the woman in, ignoring the quirk of a slightly imperfect eyebrow as Cameron took in the ripped plastic bags that littered the bathroom floor. A discarded roll of tape sat atop the toilet tank, jaggedly torn pieces of tape hanging off the edge.

Cameron closed the door, walking past Sarah to collect the most intact bag from the floor before holding it up for Sarah to put her arm in. Sarah obliged, accepting the silent help without protest as Cameron carefully wrapped tape around the edges to seal the bag. She even managed to hold her tongue when the machine made inspection of the bag itself to ensure there were no holes in the plastic. Satisfied, Cameron sat on the toilet making no motion to leave the bathroom.

"Are you going to sit there?"

"The last time you showered without assistance, Charlie had to reset your cast." The implied accusation that the shower had been a deliberate sabotage of her hated cast hung in the air. Sarah pursed her lips, wanting to refute the claim but knew her previous pigheadedness had already shown she was in the wrong.

"Make you a deal, you wash my hair and I won't put up a fight about having a babysitter." Sarah pulled her hair from its loose ponytail, grimacing at the greasy feel. She hadn't managed more than a half assed washing in over a week.

Cameron nodded agreeably, waiting patiently as Sarah stepped into the shower, tossing the towel out before turning on the water.

"Hand."

Sarah narrowed her eyes, muttering a quiet curse as she thrust her casted arm beyond the shower curtain and out of the spray. Seeming to sense she was at the end of her patience, Cameron didn't comment on the too hot temperature of the water as it steamed up the bathroom. When she was sufficiently scalded and as clean as one arm allowed, Sarah turned off the shower.

She accepted the towel that came through the curtain, wrapping the too small piece of fabric around her body. She was unsteady as she moved to step out and Cameron was at her side in an instant, helping her over the edge of the tub to get seated. A quick snip of scissors and she was plastic bag free.

Sarah chose to ignore how little her towel actually covered as Cameron reached past her to grab the bottle of shampoo. The younger woman was clad in her usual jeans, her grey tank top pulled tight along the lithe body. Sarah cleared her throat as Cameron leaned over, bringing pert breasts into stark relief. Sarah turned away, eyes closing as she tried to wrangle her thoughts into something bordering on appropriate. It wasn't an easy task.

Cameron straddled the tub, lathering the soap into Sarah's hair, gently massaging at her scalp. Sarah couldn't help the pleased sigh that escaped her as Cameron pressed into various pressure points along her temples, her near constant headache finally settling down.

"Too hard?" Cameron asked when Sarah flinched at a particularly sore spot.

"No, it's perfect."

The massage went on much longer than necessity dictated and Sarah couldn't help but appreciate the comfort being offered. When she was nearly boneless in her seat, Cameron began to rinse her hair, careful to keep the soapy water from reaching Sarah's eyes. The entire process seemed ridiculously luxurious -almost bordering on sensual- and Sarah slipped into a haze of relaxation that had been hard to come by in the last few months.

"All done." A quiet voice declared before a towel was wrapped around her head to hold wet hair in place. Cameron helped her to her feet and Sarah felt suddenly exhausted, the hot shower and head rub lulling her into near sleep. "You should rest, sleep will aid your recovery."

With that, Cameron ushered her out of the bathroom, setting to work cleaning up the litany of tape and plastic. Sarah headed for her room, peeling the towel from her body to wrangle herself into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She was tempted to simply throw herself into bed, only reticent to due so because her hair was still wet. Trying to comb through it in the morning would be more trouble than it was worth to take the time now.

A light knock at the door pulled her from her internal debate and she looked over to find Cameron, a hairbrush in hand. The younger woman's face was a mixture of nervous energy and longing as she shifted slightly in the doorway.

"You can come in, Cameron."

Heartened by the invite, the machine walked in, holding up the hairbrush. "You're tired but your hair is wet. I saw that sometimes… can I brush it for you?"

Sarah lifted an eyebrow, silently debating with herself, it was an easy fix to her dilemma. Her hair would be a rat's nest if she lay down it wet. And it wasn't as though brushing her hair would be any more intimate that Cameron washing her hair while she was half naked. Besides, the earnest look on Cameron's face left Sarah loathe to deny her. It seemed that doing these small things gave Cameron pleasure.

"Sure, Cameron, that would be nice." Sarah adjusted herself on the bed, long legs stretched out on the threadbare comforter. Cameron said behind her, campfire style, unwrapping the towel from Sarah's hair and folding it neatly at her side.

"I'm sorry," the terminator said a few moments later as she worked the brush through tangled locks.

"For what?" Sarah asked. "You didn't kill anyone did you?" The question was only half in jest.

"Not recently. I'm sorry for your wrist, I know being damaged frustrates you."

"It wasn't your fault, Cameron."

"You were protecting me, it is my fault."

Sarah turned, stilling Cameron's hand. "We're a team, we protect each other, that's how it works. Besides, considering how many times you've saved my ass, I owed you one."

"But…"

"Cam," the shortened name, an unintended intimacy, slipped from her lips before she even thought of it. Sarah's hand seeming to move of its own volition, cupped the younger woman's chin. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Cameron's cheek to reassure her that all was forgiven. "It's okay."

She waited for the slight nod that showed Cameron understood before turning away once more. She smiled when the brush started through her hair again, the strokes relaxing, the warmth of the room and the body behind her pulling her into sleep. Her mind was too far gone to stop what her body wanted and Sarah leaned back into the small but sturdy body behind her, eyes closing.

When she opened her eyes again -arms curled around her pillow, blanket settled atop her shoulders- it was morning.

**888**

Sarah stood from her seat at the kitchen table, stretching toward the ceiling, sighing contentedly as her vertebrae settled into place. The house was quiet, John had taken off with Riley, at Sarah's insistence. He had been holed up in his room for days working on the Nexus virus and he was liable to get sloppy if he didn't take a break.

She hadn't seen much of Derek, not since his altercation with Cameron. She had left a curt message on his phone with the supplies they needed for Nexus, trusting that his sense of duty would over ride his boyish tendency to pout.

Cameron was at the kitchen counter, diligently typing away on the computer as she put her various plans to paper for the rest of them. They would choose the best version and adapt as they received new intel. Derek had managed to snag a janitorial job and despite being in a full on sulk was dutifully relaying whatever information he came across.

Sarah walked behind Cameron, aiming for the fridge, heart set on the last of the strawberry milk. John had been force feeding her every flavour of milk under the sun to push along her healing bones. Strawberry was the only flavour left that she could actually stand. She pulled out the mostly empty bottle, taking the last swig and tossing the spent container into the recycle bin.

"We're out of milk."

"We are not out of milk, we're out of strawberry milk. Choose another flavour."

"I don't like any of the other flavours." Sarah rarely found herself being petulant for petulance sake but damn it, why'd John have to drink the last of the one flavour she could stand?

Cameron left her plans on the counter, wordlessly pulling over one of their sturdier chairs. She used it as a step stool, reaching into the far depths of the cupboard. First out came canned goods, placed 'just so' on the counter. Then a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

"Cameron... Are you hiding food?"

The machine looked down, a momentary flash of irritation lighting up brown eyes. "John ate my cereal."

Sarah's own irritation with the man of the house was replaced with a gentle amusement at Cameron's display of territoriality. A variety of cereals came down, each more sugary than the last. Finally, counter full, Cameron stood on tiptoes reaching for the farthest depths of the cupboard.

The move caused her shirt to ride up, exposing a tanned if somewhat scarred torso. Sarah pursed her lips, forcing herself to avert from the display of skin only to find her eyes betraying her as they focused on the toned rear end clad in a jean skirt. Short enough to be nearly inappropriate, the frayed denim was held on slim hips by a wide leather belt that served only to enhance the curve from Cameron's streamlined back to well sculpted ass.

Damn. It.

Never mind Cameron's skirt, Sarah's thoughts had strayed into inappropriate territory. It was one thing to share a couple of chaste kisses between... friends but her brain was definitely headed into less than platonic territory.

Even with all the progress of the last few months, the idea of having a physical relationship with Cameron still held more than a tinge of taboo. Perhaps that's why the thoughts refused to leave Sarah, the idea of doing something out of character, simply for her own pleasure was tempting. Crazy. But tempting.

Sarah would be lying if she said she hadn't given the idea considerably more thought than she should have. Or that she hadn't made more than one 'accidental' contact with the machine, just to feel soft skin. She was equally certain Cameron knew something was up, the younger woman staying closer to Sarah than ever, rarely out of sight and rarer still for her to be out of earshot. Cameron would always turn into Sarah at the contact, a small smile playing across her lips. Able to read pulse and body temperature with little more than a cursory touch, Cameron had to realize the effect she had Sarah.

"Sarah?"

She gave a start, surprised to find that at some point Cameron had managed to get off the chair and stand in front of her. She had missed the dismount. Pity.

"Are you all right?"

"Good, great, I'm good." Sarah mentally shook her head at the poor display of conversation, giving it over as a lost cause with Cameron standing so close in front of her. "What's up?"

"Strawberry syrup." Cameron held up a bottle with a rabbit dancing across the label. "I anticipated John would consume the majority of the milk. I prepared." Cameron set about making the drink, carefully measuring the syrup to milk ratio and mixing the concoction into a sickly pink solution. She held it out to Sarah, waiting expectantly for a review. Sarah obliged, sipping at the liquid, attempting to avoid the all embarrassing milk mustache.

"Is it to taste?"

"It's perfect, thank you." Touched by the simple gesture, Sarah smiled at her companion who quickly matched it with a bright smile of her own. It still occasionally struck Sarah as odd, seeing a machine built solely to kill, smile as though she were truly nothing more than the woman she pretended to be. Except, Cameron wasn't pretending. The emotions weren't mimics, they were real. Cameron's protectiveness, her stalwart loyalty, it wasn't a program anymore, it was a choice.

It made all the difference.

Sarah pushed the thoughts to the side, she had run this circle more than once in her head and hadn't come up with any answers. It would be more productive to focus on a problem she could deal with.

"How's the planning going?" Sarah sipped at her milk, watching with a smirk as Cameron proceeded to place her goodies back in their hiding spot. Pointedly ignoring the lean legs that she felt might be being showcased specifically for her, Sarah turned her attention to the plans on the counter.

"There are a number of different approaches, most do not present an increased likelihood of success unless..."

"Cameron, no." Sarah knew what suggestion was coming. "We are not hacking government computers to launch a missile at Nexus." The plan had already been brought up. Twice. Sarah looked at her companion, shaking her head at Cameron's pursed lips, a sure sign of the machine's frustration. Start a war while trying to stop the apocalypse, wouldn't that just take the piss out of everything.

"It would be easy," the machine muttered quietly, hopping down from the chair to return to her paperwork. Sarah's hand acted without permission from her mind, landing on Cameron's shoulder and giving a squeeze.

"I know you're… worried about me going in there but you can't protect me by throwing bombs at every problem we see. More scalpel, less hammer, okay?"

Cameron shrugged and shifted restlessly through the papers that littered the counter. Taking a slim hand in her own, Sarah stilled the aimless shuffling and forced the machine to look at her.

"It's going to be okay, we're going to make it through this."

"The odds..."

"Fuck the odds. Any sane person would bet I'd be dead a hundred times over by now but I'm not. I'm not dying out there. Neither are you."

She could feel the tension in the small body, Cameron's logical mind warring with what Sarah was telling her. It didn't truly register that she was moving until Sarah had stepped in, taking Cameron into her arms to hold her in a hug. It was silly but when her world turned upside down, sometimes the simple contact, from John, from Charlie, from anyone, could center her. It seemed to do the trick for Cameron whose body relaxed, slender arms reaching around Sarah to hug her back. Sarah leaned her head against Cameron's, quieting her logical mind and simply enjoying the feel of soft hair.

"We're going to take care of each other. You're going to watch my back, I trust you to do that. And I'm going to watch yours. We're going to make it out, together."

"Swear?" The word was almost frightened and Sarah found it ironic that the strongest of them would need reassurance. Ironic and wonderful. She pressed her lips to the side of Cameron's head, certain -now, more than ever- that whatever her feelings for the machine, they weren't one sided. Maybe it wasn't so crazy after all.

"Swear."

Tbc…


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: This chapter has one semi 'sexy' scene. Probably nothing more than you'd see on network television and definitely not as racy as you'd find on cable. Fair warning.**

**As always, these characters aren't mine, I nabbed them from their usual sandbox to push them around a little.**

**Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated. Enjoy!**

**888**

On the eve of their attack on Nexus, Sarah sat on her couch, flicking through TV channels, mind more on the mission than anything flashing in front of her. She couldn't sleep, brain far too active as it ran through various scenarios and contingency plans should the mission go south.

Plan A was to get far enough into the building to access the deepest of the company servers and distribute the virus John had created. If they were lucky, Cameron would have time to tap into international uplinks and send Nexus and its child companies back to the Stone Age. An unfortunate program error, attributed to Nexus' fledgling AI.

Plan B was to tap solely into the AI program and shut it down, wiping out all its software components from conception onward.

Last resort, or the 'we're humped' plan -as Derek had so delicately put it- was to drop their bag of C4 in the generator room -a move likely to take out the facility in its entirety- and run like hell. It would limit the impact of their mission solely to the Nexus main station. Any computer information that had been transmitted outward would still exist, but it would derail the contract and buy them time.

They had plans and back up plans, escape routes, weapons... Cameron. No reason to think the mission would be anything less than moderately successful, even if chances of survival were less than ideal. Cameron had calculated Sarah's odds of survival at less than twenty percent, Cameron's own were only slightly better.

Cameron had quietly reminded her of the odds earlier in the afternoon -along with another request that she alone venture into the facility. Sarah had taken the news with her usual stoicism, issuing a polite but firm 'hell no' to Cameron's request. Cameron's survival chances if she went alone were barely calculable. Once she started uploading the virus, there was no question the Triple Eight would be alerted and it would be up to Sarah to protect the terminator while she finished her job. Without Sarah, Cameron wouldn't have a chance and sacrificing her wholesale wasn't something she could do.

There, perhaps, lay the crux of Sarah's insomnia. She was unable to send a machine in to do the job it had been programmed for and not because she didn't trust Cameron to succeed. If anything, she knew Cameron would stop at nothing to keep them safe, keep her safe. The problem lay in her unwillingness to send Cameron to her death. Even knowing the result could be the end of Skynet itself, Sarah couldn't in good conscience sacrifice Cameron without trying to get her home safely. It was an unacceptable loss -as much as losing John would be- and Sarah couldn't quite figure out why. Even John would send his own father back, into nothing less than certain death, knowing it was for the greater good.

But that was different, wasn't it? Kyle had to die in order for John to be created. Cameron didn't. If there was a chance they could make it out alive, together, she couldn't send Cameron in alone.

"Sarah?"

She looked up from the TV to find Cameron standing just to the left of the chattering box, staring at Sarah, concern evident.

"I'm fine. Just thinking." Sarah shifted over on the couch, an unspoken invitation for the smaller woman to sit down. Cameron recognized the cue and took her place at Sarah's side, sitting somewhat rigidly in the soft cushions.

"Thinking about tomorrow?"

"Yeah, about tomorrow. And what comes after."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not sure either I do either," Sarah admitted, sinking in to the couch with a sigh. Cameron mimicked her movement, settling deep into the cushions before turning back to Sarah. She wasn't going to get any sleep tonight anyway, may as well attempt to sort through the rats nest that was her emotions. At least she could die with a clear mind. "What is this Cameron?"

"A couch?"

Sarah pursed her lips, unsure whether that was a legitimate answer or if the machine was being intentionally obtuse. "I meant this." She motioned between herself and her companion, asking herself as much as the machine. What the hell where they becoming? Teammates? Definitely. Friends? Most likely. But Sarah had sent more than one friend to die in her day. This was… more.

"You are a human. I am a terminator, model..."

"Stop." Sarah held up a hand, smirking at the slight smile on Cameron's face, recognizing the attempt at humour for what it was. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I'm talking about us, our interactions. Something is different, since you woke up. You're more... aware of me than before."

"Scientific studies show that cultivating intimate bonds statistically increases the chances of perceived happiness and longevity."

That sounded about right. For a machine. But Sarah didn't want mechanical logic. Didn't want science. Between computers, doctors and time traveling lovers, there had been enough science to last a lifetime. Sarah wanted to know what Cameron was feeling, to figure out her own feelings and she wasn't making any damn progress sitting here on the couch.

_In it to win it, Connor._

"I can show you a chart that correlates positive relationships with…"

"Cameron..."

"Yes?"

"Shut up and hold still." Sarah leaned over, forcing her brain to take a back seat to what her body had been wanting for some time now. Longer than she had consciously known, she was certain of it. She pressed their lips together, not a kiss for luck, not a grateful peck that the other woman was in one piece, this kiss had purpose. Intent.

Instinctively, her hand reached up, running through long strands of rich hair, pulling Cameron closer against her. The machine -whatever else she was- was warm and soft against her. Once Cameron seemed to understand the situation, she responded in kind, small hands resting on Sarah's thighs as she leaned into the kiss. Sarah could sense a nervousness about her companion, as if, for once, Cameron didn't actually know what her next move should be.

Not wanting to push too much, too fast, Sarah slowly broke away, eyes searching Cameron's, pleased to see a smile on her lips, brown eyes closed.

"Cameron?"

"I liked that. It was too taste."

"Yeah, it was." The simple pleasure of the kiss was worth the maelstrom of emotions it let loose. To be connected to another person, if only for a moment, was a luxury rarely indulged and Sarah pointedly ignored her still lingering confusion. The kiss didn't explain anything, frankly, Sarah didn't have the energy to work out the details of it at the moment. If they lived through tomorrow, they could sit down and talk it out then.

"You should rest."

Sarah couldn't argue that. Now that she had attempted to set her emotions in order, she was suddenly exhausted. How her brain managed to be both traveling at warp speed and mired to the neck in quicksand, she couldn't understand. Pushing herself up from the sofa, Sarah looked around the modest house as she walked to her room.

They didn't have much, they never had. Nothing that couldn't be packed in a duffel and thrown into the truck if they had to move on a moment's notice. Or, ditch entirely if they had no notice at all. Nothing to get attached to, save for John.

And now Cameron, Sarah's loyal protector, who followed her down the hallway, turning in to her room to check on Crackers. Sarah stopped, leaning against Cameron's door frame to watch the machine interact with the animal. Sarah was thankful the mouse was good natured, giving Cameron a positive pet experience. She wanted Cameron to have good experiences, wanted her to have a chance at making herself better. More human. It would be easier that way, to accept her own affection for Cameron, an attachment that was at once warm and slightly disquieting.

Still, all things considered, her emotions seemed a foolish thing to lose sleep over. By this time tomorrow, how she felt about Cameron likely wouldn't matter one way or the other. Chances were she'd be a cold body or a pile of low nuclear yield ash.

It wasn't the first time Sarah had taken on a dangerous mission. Her fear was never for herself, she had accepted long ago that she would die young. Her fear was failure. Fear that she would leave John unprepared, unprotected. Alone.

Normally in the days before her mission, she would quell her fears with methodical preparation. Run every move through her mind until she could walk her path blindfolded. Switch off the concerned mother and let the calculating warrior take hold.

But sometimes, when the planets aligned just right, she'd spend it in the arms of someone who could keep the world, the future, at bay. Sometimes.

"Cameron?"

"Yes?" The machine handed Crackers his customary piece of carrot and closed his cage, turning to Sarah.

"Could... could you do me a favour?"

"Of course."

Sarah held out her hand and Cameron stared at it before canting her head, her universal sign that something didn't compute.

"Give me your hand," Sarah explained, waiting for a small hand to clasp in her own. She led Cameron from her room, thankful the machine had at least read the tug on her hand as a desire for her to move. Sarah slipped into her room, Cameron following suite, expression progressively more confused as Sarah closed the door.

"Do you remember, that night in the Jeep, when I passed out?"

A silent nod.

"You slept beside me, kept me safe."

"I will always keep you safe, Sarah."

"I know, can you… would you stay, tonight? I just, I think... it'll help me sleep." If Sarah thought about it, she'd slept better in that week in the desert with Cameron than she had in months, lulled to sleep by the stalwart strength of her companion. Cameron didn't answer, merely stepped past Sarah, unzipping knee high boots and sitting on the bed, her own hand held out to Sarah.

Thankful for the quiet acceptance, Sarah walked over the bed. She used Cameron's hand to stabilize herself as she shucked her boots, tucking them neatly under her bed, laces loosened, ready to be slipped on at a moment's notice. Cameron lay down mechanically, arms by her side, staring up at the ceiling. Turning off the lamp, Sarah lay down, sidling up to the smaller body.

Abandoning her pride for lost, she threw an arm over Cameron, who didn't so much as flinch.

"Cameron?"

"Yes?"

"This doesn't work if you're rigid as a plank. Relax. You've watched people sleep on TV, right?"

"Yes."

"Do that then." Sarah closed her eyes, body relaxing into the soft comforter and rough denim of Cameron's over shirt. A slight movement from the machine and Sarah was on her side, Cameron's arm wrapped tight around her, holding her securely against the firm if slightly smaller body.

"Is this appropriate?"

Sarah relaxed into the secure embrace, her own hands resting atop Cameron's as her mind finally began to still.

"It's perfect, thank you. Cam, don't leave, okay? Stay with me until I wake up." One last night, nightmare free. Happy dreams.

There was a long pause before Cameron responded. "I won't leave you, Sarah."

**888**

The sun wasn't more than a watery version of itself when Sarah pulled her mind out of sleep, body long tuned to wake at the slightest provocation. Her senses searched for what had changed, mind quickly coming up with the gentle pressure on her back as nimble fingers worked on her muscles. It felt altogether too good to wake up this way, body cinched tight against Cameron, massaged into consciousness.

Sarah immediately shut down the instinctive part of her brain that rebelled at letting a machine so close, body and conscious mind content to accept the small luxuries and enjoy. If today was her last day, she wasn't about to duke it out with herself over a few acts of harmless hedonism.

"Is it time to get up?"

"Almost. I apologize for waking you. You were tense, I thought a massage might make you relax."

"I'm relaxed and I'm comfortable, no need to apologize. Can we stay like this for awhile?" She could pretend for just a bit longer.

"We have approximately 43 minutes before we need to get up."

"Are you comfortable, I'm not too heavy?" Somewhere over the course of the night, the greater part of Sarah's body had sprawled over Cameron, one of her legs dangling over Cameron's side of the bed.

"Your weight is negligible and the pressure is acceptable."

"So, you're okay?"

"Yes. Although, I am concerned about your quality of breathing during your sleep cycle. Apnea can lead to a variety of serious health issues."

"Apnea?" Sarah raised her head, cocking an eyebrow at the woman beneath her. "Are you saying I snore?"

"Yes."

"I most certainly do not."

"I could mimic the noise," Cameron said, her mouth curving in to nothing short of a full on smirk. "The decibel level is quite high."

"No," Sarah covered Cameron's mouth with her hand. "Thanks, I'm good. I'll take your word for it." Smiling at the gentle tease, Sarah tucked her head against the curved shoulder. The machine felt soft beneath her, she didn't know why but that still surprised her. That a body comprised of metal could still feel so warm, so comforting.

She wrapped her casted arm more tightly around Cameron's waist, relishing the idea that she'd soon be free of it. It was a little early to take it off -not even a full three weeks- but it would make her look odd in the Nexus compound to keep it on. Her dominant hand was still good and she could always have the wrist recast later. Sarah's mind blared at her, wondering whether she truly believe there would be a 'later'. She wasn't sure she did. Between guards, the Triple Eight, the C-4, and whatever other tricks Nexus might be hiding... well Cameron had already calculated the odds.

"You should go back to sleep."

"I should," Sarah acknowledged, enjoying the quiet companionship too much to waste it sleeping. She played with the cuff of Cameron's shirt, pushing it up to expose the soft skin of her wrist, fingers playing over the fabricated tendons and muscles.

"Can you feel this? I mean, is it…"

"It feels nice. This feels nice," Cameron gently squeezed to show what she meant. "I enjoy sleeping with you."

Sarah chuckled at the innocent words. "I enjoy sleeping with you too."

"Am I allowed to touch?"

Sarah only gave brief thought to the request, it wasn't as if she could say no considering she was plastered against Cameron already. She found she had no particular desire to say 'no' at any rate. Even her innate instinct to resist for resistance sake was nowhere to be found. Besides, tactile experiences were important for the learning process. Allowing Cameron to explore her body would provide important data to the machine.

_Yeah, that's it Connor. It's all about Cameron._

"I'd… I'd like that."

Sarah allowed herself to be rolled on to her back, fighting the urge to curl in a little as Cameron's eyes raked over her body. She had caught Cameron watching her on more than one occasion but this look was different, the machine not bothering to filter her desires. The want in dark eyes was unmistakable, leaving Sarah in awe at the depth of the emotion coming from the younger woman. Hands ran along her arms, goose bumps following behind the feather soft touch. Cameron worked away across her shoulders, the pads of her fingers slightly calloused as the trailed across a clavicle and down toward Sarah's breasts.

Sarah barely restrained herself, her body waking up after months of dormancy, demanding more from Cameron's touch. It was all she could do not to take Cameron's hand and force it to her breasts. It was the young woman's first experience exploring someone else's body and Sarah wanted it to be pleasurable, memorable, not a last ditch attempt to grind herself against the machine.

"Your body is aesthetically pleasing. Your musculature is very well maintained. You have an increased body temperature."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at the last bit, wondering what her body temperature had to do with how good she looked. "Do you mean I'm hot, Cameron?"

"Yes, that is the appropriate term?"

Sarah chuckled at her hyper literal companion. "Yeah, it'll do."

Giving in to herself, just a little, Sarah took Cameron's hand and tugged the other woman on top of her. When tantalizing lips were finally in range, she leaned up, capturing Cameron's mouth with her own. It was a gentle kiss, Sarah forced it to be, determined not to give in to her body's urge to launch herself at her companion.

Cameron responded in kind, returning the kiss while she tried to touch Sarah and maintain her balance. It proved a little much for the inexperienced woman who couldn't get her positioning right, her frustration evident as she tried every permutation of hand placement to stabilize herself.

"You get better at that," Sarah promised, peeling her lips from Cameron's to comment.

"Show me?"

Sarah nodded, kissing Cameron again before wrapping her legs around a slim waist. She used her body weight and Cameron's poor position to roll the other woman on to her back, straddling the toned stomach. Giving in to her desire, she brought Cameron's hands to her chest, the feel of small palms gently squeezing at her direction nearly enough to make Sarah forget her intention to go slow.

Determined to let Cameron lead from there, Sarah leaned down, thoroughly enjoying Cameron's careful exploration of her mouth, her own hands cupping the slight jaw of her companion.

She hadn't expected it to be quite like this, guiding Cameron through the initial stages of a physical relationship. Even though Cameron had never been with anyone, Sarah had thought she might have accessed any number of resources to educate herself about sex. Feeling the whisper of Cameron's fingers across her skin, she knew if the machine had done any research, it had prepared her for the physical encounter, not the emotions behind it.

Cameron's touches -while capable- were tentative, as though she felt Sarah would withdraw her permission if she miss-stepped. First experiences were unnerving for most and Cameron's was likely more so, considering the idea of emotion itself was still so new. Determined to bring confidence to the younger woman, Sarah settled her full weight on the machine, effectively pinning her to the mattress. She allowed one small hand to roam across her body, bringing the other to her mouth to place a gentle kiss across Cameron's knuckles. The reassurance seemed to take hold, Cameron disentangling their fingers to pull Sarah back to her, touches firmer, more adventurous, as her hands moved over unexplored terrain.

She couldn't have said how long they were like that, long enough that Sarah's mind shut itself off to any concept of time and she was surprised by a knock at her door that broke through the haze. Sarah paused, grinning at Cameron's pout when she pulled their mouths apart.

The brief respite gave her mind a moment to wonder at the months of slow build that had led her from the path of wary distrust to a full on make out session with the woman beneath her. She certainly hadn't been looking for whatever they had, indeed had recognized it almost too late, but she was grateful for what little time they had. John's voiced carried through the door, his boots shuffling on the hardwood floor.

"Hey, Mom. Charlie's here to cut off your cast, he said he has to go in to work early."

Sarah sighed, dropping her head to Cameron's shoulder, tempted to send Charlie away and just cut the damned thing off herself. Her better nature, the one that had guided her for nigh on twenty years, wouldn't have it and she answered John's call. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay. Pancakes?"

Sarah dropped a kiss to Cameron's neck, knowing their moment was officially at an end. Duty called. "Yes, John. I'll make pancakes." The heavy clunk of his boots as he made his way down the hallway assured Sarah and Cameron had been left to themselves.

"When we get back tonight… can we do that again?" Cameron asked, her hands resting on Sarah's hips as the taller woman sat back. When. Not if. A machine had decided to bet on a human rather than the odds. Wonders never ceased. Sarah hoped she didn't prove the younger woman wrong.

"Tell you what, when we get back to tonight…" Sarah leaned down, whispering her intentions into the shell of a downy ear, inhaling the scent of Cameron's shampoo. "Deal?"

"Deal," the machine readily agreed. Sarah stole one last kiss, Cameron's hands firmly holding her in place against her hips and nearly sending every bit of Sarah's resolution out the window. Finally managing to pull herself away, she smiled at the other woman, at what the future might hold.

"Come on, Girlie, you're cooking."

**888**

Sarah stood in the kitchen with the others, the map of the facility spread out across the table. Nexus guards in the shape of green army men were stationed at their positions, a toy car representing John's position, blue army men for Sarah and Derek. A small board game replica of the Tin Man stood next to Sarah's figurine. Sarah touched the tiny man, unable to help the small smile that she saw Cameron mirror. She fought the urge to take Cameron's hand, knowing she needed all her concentration for what was to come. Shelving Sarah Connor, -the mother, the frightened woman, the soon to be lover - she mentally pulled down her mask of command, settling easily into her familiar role as leader.

"All right, here's how it's going to go down, first thing, we have to take out the guard at the gate..."

_Sarah held the sniper rifle tight to her shoulder, watching as Cameron pulled up to the gate, Derek in the passenger seat, John in the rear. The guard stepped out of the shack, one hand on his pistol as he went out to challenge them. Sarah couldn't hear his words but his lips seemed to be giving the trio a somewhat polite order to back the fuck off. She sighted his neck as he stepped out of the shack, taking two steady breaths, pulling the trigger gently back as she exhaled. _

_The guard's hand clamped on his neck, fingers finding the tranquilizer dart moments before he dropped to the ground. His partner stepped out to check on his comrade, quickly downed by a second shot that left both men lying face down in the dirt. Cameron slid out of the drivers seat, dragging the men to the back of the car. A quick set of cuffs and she loaded the men into the trunk, closing them in as John shifted into the driver's seat. Derek took up his post at the main gate, clad in one of their stolen guard uniforms, the brim of his hat pulled low. John threw the car into gear, heading west over the horizon to wait for the rendezvous order._

"From there, Cameron and I need to get into the facility itself. We can't let them know we're there or they'll send the whole place into lockdown before we get a shot at the server room."

_Sarah threw her rifle over her shoulder, sliding down the red rock hill in her coveralls. Her boots hit pavement and she sprinted across the cracked highway, eyes scanning the inner part of the compound for anyone who had seen her come down. She handed the rifle off to Derek, peeling her dusty coveralls from her body to show her own guard uniform. He traded the rifle for the standard issue guard belt, Cameron kneeling down to shine the worst of the dirt from her boots as Sarah adjusted the belt on her hips. A cap completed the outfit, Sarah grimacing as she pulled on it with her bad hand. It had definitely been too early to remove the cast._

"_You have twenty minutes," Derek advised. He would abandon the post shortly before the station change, effectively leaving Sarah and Cameron on their own in the belly of the beast. The pair headed across the compound, moving quickly without flat out running for the entrance, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. The security door beeped its acceptance of Cameron's keycard and they were in, the bright sunshine disappearing as the heavy steel door locked them into the dim hallway._

"Once we're in, we'll have to look out for the floating patrols."

Derek broke in, "they don't have any set patrol pattern that I can make out so you'll just have to wing it. But all of them pass by here." He pointed to an area where there was an elevator. "It's your only way down to the lower levels where they keep the servers. If they lock down the building while you're below ground, I don't have an out for you."

"Then we just won't get caught."

_Sarah stayed glued to Cameron's side, just behind the younger woman as they slipped through the hallways. They had judiciously avoided two guard relay stations but they were quickly coming up on the elevator shaft. It was more than likely they would meet at least one of the roaming patrols before they hit the elevator itself. The whirr of a security camera turning caught Sarah's attention and Cameron pushed her roughly against the wall, her machine mind more than able to calculate the angles that would keep them out of view of the camera. The camera turned again and they moved on, Cameron lightly touching Sarah's arm in apology for the rough treatment. _

_They met their first resistance in the hallway just before the elevator, practically running headlong into a lone guard. Cameron took him by the collar, slamming him against the wall with a force that made Sarah wince, his body immediately going limp in the machine's hands. Cameron threw him atop the maintenance pipes that ran overheard, hoisting Sarah up so she could arrange the man in a less conspicuous manner. It was as Sarah stood atop Cameron's shoulders that the man's partner cleared the corner, his weapon at the ready. _

_Sarah pulled her pistol from her thigh, firing a quick round into the man's neck and he dropped like a stone, hand still clutching the dart in his neck. He joined his fellow on the pipe and they continued on finding the elevator without further incident._

"The blueprints for the lower level are sketchy at best. We don't know what Nexus has manipulated to hide the location of the server farm. What we do know is that the server farm is going to be outputting a lot of heat and pulling in a ton of cool air."

"_That one," Cameron said, pointing at an overhead pipe as they exited the elevator onto the lower level. "The heat signature is intense and there is considerable electrical disturbance. It should lead us to the server room." _

_Sarah trailed after Cameron, pistol drawn as she ran. They would still have roving patrols to deal with but their security informant hadn't mentioned any guard stations on this level. She wasn't exactly comfortable being this far underground with nothing but enemies standing overhead, especially with the clock ticking. Sarah checked her watch, frowning at the time remaining._

"_We have approximately twelve minutes until security is alerted to our presence," Cameron said. "It is unlikely we will be able to exit the facility in that time frame."_

"_Any bright ideas, Girlie?"_

"_You go back, I go forward," Cameron said, as if the choice to sacrifice herself for Sarah was a simple one._

_Maybe it should have been. A machine for a human life, human lives. It shouldn't have even been a question. But it was and Sarah was damned if she'd allow herself to start thinking of Cameron as just a tool again, not with everything that lay between them._

"_No dice, we go together or not at all."_

"_Then we need to move quickly." With that, Cameron was sprinting down the hall, Sarah hot on her heels._

"Once we're near the server room, it's anyone's guess. Our intel doesn't take us that far. We could be running head long into a battalion of guards or the whole thing could be completely automated. We just won't know until we get down there."

"Do you have an exit plan?" John asked. "I don't see any way out but the way you came in. If they lock down the elevators, you're done."

"Once Cameron is in the system, she can control the elevators and security. We'll set off an alarm to get everyone out and make our way to the vent system that'll spit us out here." Sarah pointed to a vent that exited two miles away from the facility. "We'll cut the gate guards loose, ditch the car outside the city and get back here. Anything goes wrong," she looked to John and Derek as she spoke, "pull pin. We'll find each other later. Everyone good?"

Three heads nodded, one set of deep brown eyes finding Sarah's, concern and trust warring for dominance in the dark gaze.

"All right then, let's go to work."

**888**

Sarah looked down the hall, pistol raised to take down a guard just as he came around the corner. He dropped, the fast acting tranquilizer dart putting him out for the count. It made for the fourth roaming guard in eight hallways, the server level considerably better guarded than the upper levels.

She motioned Cameron forward, giving her the lead as they rounded the corner. The machine moved with her usual silent efficiency, taking her place beside Sarah as she scanned the area for further security. They had already been caught off guard by the floating guard upstairs, they didn't need any more hiccups. The immediate area was clear, various utility pipes running lengthwise down the halls. The most heavily shielded lines were those that led into the main server room: power, network wires and the heat vent that was Cameron's guide to finding the room itself.

It was a winding path of hallways between here and there, the pipes themselves the only reliable map. As assumed, the blueprints hadn't been particularly accurate -whether through incompetence or design- and the server room was nestled somewhere in the center of a labyrinth like design.

Sarah checked her watch, they had about ten minutes before shift change. Three minutes to upload the virus, at least another ten to get back the way they came. It was going to be a photo finish. Cameron didn't seem particularly concerned, once she realized her protest of the plan was falling on deaf ears, she had simply given herself over to Sarah's command. She had been guardedly neutral through most of the mission, her mask slipping only once, when Sarah had been caught flat footed by the security patrol.

The guarded emotions weren't anything new -historically speaking- but it did disquiet Sarah for reasons she couldn't quite pin down. Cameron was acting decidedly more… mechanical the closer they got to their target. It was possible the machine was quarantining her emotions, blocking them off so they wouldn't distract her during critical moments. Still, even if it made the machine more efficient, Sarah would have preferred it was her Cameron standing beside her rather than the disconnected version of her companion.

"Cameron?" The machine didn't respond, dark eyes hyper focused on the trunk like cables. "Cameron?"

She turned, as though hearing Sarah for the first time. "Yes?"

Sarah touched the terminator's arm, momentarily pulling her focus from the mission. "Is something wrong?"

"No, the mission is going according to plan."

"I meant with you. Is something wrong with you?"

"Yes."

Sarah was surprised by the easy admission. Now wasn't really the time for a heart to heart but considering in ten minutes she would be lucky to have a pulse, now would have to do. "What's up?"

"We didn't kiss, for luck." The machine looked so earnest, the situation so suddenly ridiculous that Sarah could help the quiet chuckle that escaped her.

"I'd hate to break our winning streak." Double checking the hallway, Sarah pulled the smaller woman toward her by her utility belt, pressing their lips firmly together, determined to enjoy what few pleasures she had left. It was a quick kiss and Cameron stepped back, the buss barely ranking a 'G' rating. The elder Connor wouldn't have it, holding firmly to her companion's belt.

"Cam," the intimate name came easily and Sarah put her hand to Cameron's cheek, brushing softly at downy skin as she stared into eyes that seemed all at once more human. "Kiss me like you mean it."

She found herself pressed against the wall, Cameron's weight holding her in place as the terminator attacked her mouth with a passion Sarah had only glimpsed at. She tugged on Cameron's hips, pulling her closer, determined to wring whatever pleasure she could from what was likely to be her last kiss.

Sarah wasn't surprised by how much she enjoyed the physicality of it. Cameron had already proved to be a quick study. She was somewhat surprised by the depth of emotion she felt for the machine, for the woman, in her arms. It wasn't quite love, not yet, but given the chance, she thought it could have been. The thought both frustrated and elated her. Frustration that this would never be more than what it was right now, that she wouldn't have the opportunity to watch Cameron grow and explore her humanity. But elation, that she, Sarah Connor, after all the machines had done to her, made her do, hadn't lost her own humanity. That even in these last moments before she laid herself prostrate before fate, the hand she'd been dealt hadn't robbed her of the ability to love, to be loved, as something more than a mother.

Sarah forced herself to concentrate on the now, what she had in her arms rather than what she was being denied. The soft feel of Cameron's lips against hers, the rough fabric that hung loosely on the machine's lithe body, the scent of apple blossom's and gun oil that was carved in her memory as Cameron's smell. The sharp prick in her leg that was instantly numb.

Sarah pulled away, dark eyes searching Cameron for answers. When the machine offered none, she looked down, glazing eyes catching sight of a tranquilizer dart resting comfortably in a small hand.

"Son of a…"

**888**

Sarah woke as she was being hauled down the hallway between two burly guards, boot heels leaving the occasional scuff as they dragged her behind them. Her tongue felt two sizes too big for her mouth, her head full of cotton as she worked to process what the hell had happened. She had kissed Cameron and then… Cameron.

"Son of a bitch." The words sounded far less clear out of her mouth than they had in her head, didn't matter. What did matter was what the hell was going on. Cameron had gone rogue. In a military installation. With an AI. Crap. Crap. Crap.

There was a reasonable explanation for it, there had to be. No way Cameron dumped her in the middle of a mission to be picked up by the rent-a-cops from hell. There was a plan. Sarah sincerely wished she had been informed of said plan but Cameron evidently hadn't mastered the subtleties of common courtesy yet. A lesson she would teach the machine presently. She just had to get the hell away from the guards.

"Where… where we going?" There, she thought that had sounded like a reasonable approximation of speech.

"Detention so we can figure this all out," one of the men responded. That was all they would give her. The desire to let herself slip back into the black was almost overwhelming, it would be so easy to simply go back to sleep and let fate sort things out. There were days where she absolutely hated being a Connor.

Unfortunately, whether by nature or nurture, she just didn't have it in her to quit. Sarah wriggled a little, testing the grip strength of her captors. She could tell by their hold that a full on struggle wouldn't do much to get her loose and they had been dragging her dead weight for some time so going limp wouldn't do the trick either. Her run through of possible of escape maneuvers was halted by the sound of something hard meet something soft.

Both of the guards dropped her to the ground, one man dazedly hitting the cement, bleeding from Derek's pistol whip. The other man went to meet the new challenge, snapping out his steel baton. Sarah forced her body to do her bidding, getting to her feet to plant an axekick across the broad back of the man on the ground, putting him down. She used his cuffs, linking one meaty arm to a power cable that ran along the floor. Derek mirrored her, handcuffing his now unconscious man to a cable further down.

"What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be with John."

"You missed the last check in before the switch. I figured if you'd been taken down that you and chrome dome would have at least cleared enough for me to make it through with this." He held out his utility belt, a cleverly packed C4 bomb that looked more than capable of destroying the power generator and sending the facility into overload. Their main payload was with Cameron, enough to collapse the majority of the main compound and a good portion of the smaller ones beside it.

"Where were they taking you?"

"Detention, wherever the hell that is." Sarah hadn't seen the location on the schematics, her focus having been concentrated on their target.

"Detention? It's clear across the compound in one of the outlying buildings."

"…Of course it is." And probably well out of the blast range of Cameron and her bomb. "Damn it, Cameron."

"What?"

"Cameron tranqued me and left me to be picked up by the guards, she must have known they would take me to the detention center."

"What? Why?"

Sarah let out a sigh as the reason behind the machine's actions became clear. "My guess is so that she could upload the virus and set off the bomb without worrying about me." Trust Cameron to lead her by the nose just long enough to get her into a position to do what the machine wanted. She should have known something was up when Cameron had placidly accepted the plan for both of them to hit the server. "She's protecting me."

"She's blinding you is what she's doing," Derek argued. "Now she's on her own with a computer that might be Skynet. You don't find that the least bit concerning?"

She did but more because she was worried_ for_ Cameron than about her. If the AI truly was Skynet, they had no way of knowing if it was advanced enough to set the terminator on her heels. She had to get to Cameron.

"She's playing you and you're going to run after her like a loyal little dog. You can't see what she's doing."

"Derek, I get it, you don't trust her, but we're out of options. Let's just get this done."

"We have options, you're just not seeing them."

"What the hell does that mea…" Sarah stepped back, body on autopilot, pure instinct saving her from the sucker punch Derek threw at her solar plexus. She dropped low under the haymaker that followed. She was a little surprised when he tried to sweep her leg, a little, but not really. She had been using a similar move since Kyle had showed it to her, almost two decades ago. Derek was trying to beat her with a bastardized form of her own techniques.

It was almost surreal, fighting Derek, who had learned from John, who had learned from her who in turn had been taught by Kyle, who had likely been taught by Derek. Thinking through the timeline of the entire debacle would be enough to drive even the smartest of them insane.

Where Derek was clumsy -relying on brute force- Sarah was sharp, years of taking on bigger opponents teaching her to move with agility. Thwarted by his inferior technique, Derek did all he could do, he tried to dominate her through sheer muscle. It generally wouldn't have worked, Sarah was long ago used to the tactic. But between the tranquilizer dart and an unlucky kidney punch that slipped past her guard, Derek had her on the ground with unfortunate ease. He used his cuffs to link her to a power cable, taking the time to divest her of her guard belt, tossing it down the hall.

She pulled at the cuffs, wincing as the mental pinched at her wrists. "What are you going to do?"

"What you should have done." With that, he was sprinting down the fall, following the heat cable to the server room.

"Derek!" Sarah stood, tugging on the cuffs, a ridiculous tactic she knew but necessary none the less. He would kill Cameron, of that she was sure and the thought of it left a pit of emptiness in her stomach. Sarah pulled again, her frustration growing as the seconds slipped by, Derek getting further ahead of her. She let out a yell, the animal in her baring its teeth at being caged while someone she cared about lay in danger.

What logic her brain tried to supply her with was drowned out by panicked turmoil as she threw her weight against the cuffs, kicked at the cables, lashed at anything within reach.

Left with no other recourse, Sarah drudged up her voice from the depths of her body, letting loose a yell that echoed through the empty hallways carrying every bit of her rage and panic with it.

"Cameron!"

_tbc…_


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine (you knew that), I'm not making any profit (you knew that too). We're all just having a wee bit of fun with them, I'll give'em back all shiny and polished in about 7,000 words or so.

**Author's Note:** So, here we are, the last chapter. Many thanks to everyone who's followed along, I hope you enjoyed the ride. I loved seeing all your comments, I responded (I think/hope) to all those I could and if I couldn't respond directly, please know I appreciate you taking the time to leave a note. I'm planning to make some forays into either the Lost Girl, CSI or Pretty Little Liars fandoms next. In other words, 'I'll be back'. ;)

As always, comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

**Author's 2****nd**** Note:** For a really nifty vid inspired by Arming Pasadena, check out youtube video Tornado_TSCC by 71prowler

**888**

_"Derek!" Sarah stood, tugging on the cuffs, a ridiculous tactic she knew but necessary none the less. He would kill Cameron, of that she was sure and the thought of it left a pit of emptiness in her stomach. Sarah pulled again, her frustration growing as the seconds slipped by, Derek getting further ahead of her. She let out a yell, the animal in her baring its teeth at being caged while someone she cared about lay in danger._

_What logic her brain tried to supply her with was drowned out by panicked turmoil as she threw her weight against the cuffs, kicked at the cables, lashed at anything within reach._

_Left with no other recourse, Sarah drudged up her voice from the depths of her body, letting loose a yell that echoed through the empty hallways carrying every bit of her rage and panic with it._

_"Cameron!"_

Blood leaked down her wrists, the metal slicing into tender fleshing as Sarah threw her body weight back trying to get anything, a cable, a cuff, a wrist to snap. Nothing. She closed in tight on the cable, picking up her foot, fully prepared to break her own hand if it meant getting to Cameron. Something crinkled in her pocket as she lifted up her foot and Sarah paused.

Shifting her hands, Sarah managed to shove her fingers deep into her cargo pocket and pull up her fake work orders. Paperclip.

"Back in business."

A quick flick of nimble fingers and Sarah was loose. She retrieved her pistol and sprinted after Derek, determined to stop him or die trying.

His heavy steps gave him away as she followed after him, he wasn't even trying for stealth at this point. Sarah couldn't tell how far she ran, slipping and slamming into walls and cables as she pelted after Derek. The turns seemed to be getting tighter, leading more toward the center of the ornately designed hallway system. The foots steps got louder, assuring that while he had the bulk, she had the speed. She was catching up.

Sarah rounded the final corner, still at breakneck pace. The heavy door to the server room was open, Cameron at the console, head turning side to side as she took in all the screens. Derek already had his belt off, swinging it into the room with a whip of his shoulder.

"Cameron!" Sarah screamed in warning, steps too slow to eat the distance between them. The machine turned at the sound of Sarah's voice, confusion evident for a split second before her eyes found the belt of C-4 that slid to a halt at her feet. "No!"

Derek used his body to push the door closed, bracing his rifle against the door mechanism to lock it from the outside. Without breaking stride, Sarah charged up from behind him, shouldering her full weight into the small of his back. He stumbled forward and Sarah wrapped an arm around his neck, cinching tight. Secure in her grip, she hung off his body, swinging her boots up to push off the wall launching them away from the door.

The turn wheel that held the door closed shifted, Cameron trying to dislodge the rifle that refused to give. Sarah and Derek hit the cement, his heavy weight threatening to knock the wind out of her as she landed beneath him. She hadn't really thought that one through.

She held him for as long as she could, compressing her arm tightly into his throat, using all of her strength to block his air supply. His response was to reach back and tug on her hair -a somewhat undignified approach but effective none the less- the awkward angle on her neck forcing Sarah to loosen her hold. Apparently a haircut was in her future.

When her grip was sufficiently weakened, Derek slipped from her grasp, pushing himself away from her.

"You have to understand, this is where she betrays you, betrays us. We can't let her in there with that thing."

"You can't know that."

"She's a machine, it's what they do. You think because it fooled you into having emotions for it that it changes anything. It changes nothing. And even if it did, if that thing is Skynet, she's not strong enough to fight it. Putting her in the system just gives the machines every piece of information they'll need to take the Resistance down."

"She's the strongest person I know, Derek." As Sarah spoke the words, she knew them to be truth. Cameron had learned the value of life, it hadn't been inherent but she had discovered emotion, learned it, embraced it. Sarah wasn't certain the same was even true for herself. If she could cut it all off, the pain, the fear, the frustration, she didn't know that she wouldn't choose to do so. "Cameron won't lose, she's changed. She can fix this, she can stop the war before it starts. We need to trust her."

"That's not a chance I'm willing to take, I'm sorry."

Sarah moved before her conscious mind had even registered the detonator in Derek's hand, kicking his wrist to force it from his grip. It slid along the hall and they lunged as one to capture it.

Derek got to it before Sarah did and the best she could manage was to bat it out of his hands. It left him open for a kick that she drove square into his chest, forcing him back. She dove, sliding neatly along the floor, tossing her body over the detonator to protect it.

She didn't want to kill him, she really didn't. He was a fellow Resistance fighter. A warrior. John's blood. But if Cameron couldn't finish what they came here for, these last seventeen years would be for nothing. That wasn't something she could accept. She pulled her pistol from her waist, aiming it at Derek as she stood, the detonator cradled tightly to her chest.

"Don't make me do this."

"A machine over a person. Over people."

"She can save us. I trust her."

"Why? Why her and not me?"

"I..." Sarah pursed her lips, wondering herself what the answer was. Years of hating Skynet and here she was refusing to blow up a machine that was practically their poster child. Except, Cameron wasn't. Not anymore. She was a young woman who deserved a chance to prove herself, had proven herself before. Had given her all to protect them, and would have given more if she could. "Derek, I..." A red glow, appearing from the shadows, stopped whatever she had to say. "Derek, down!"

Even if they disagreed on Cameron, it became clear that true trust wasn't an issue between them. He didn't question, didn't hesitate, he dropped at her order, rolling to the side as Sarah unloaded her clip into the Triple Eight.

Stuck between present danger and what Cameron might be capable of, Derek pulled his rifle from the door, firing larger caliber rounds into the meaty neck of the Triple Eight. It didn't so much as stutter as it continued for Sarah who blocked the door to the computer servers with her body. She had to protect Cameron, give the machine time to take down the AI.

Sarah retreated then sidestepped, grunting as it caught her by the front of her shirt and tossed her carelessly into Derek. They landed in an awkward heap, limbs tangling as they tried to sort themselves out.

The server room door opened, momentarily blocking the Triple Eight from view. Cameron stood, one hand wrapped around Derek's belt of C-4, the other holding the thin cable that leashed her to the main computer. She turned, tossing the belt to Derek.

"There's a secondary server farm on sub level 3, section 8. Hurry."

Derek stared, from Cameron to Sarah, his indecision clear.

"I know you don't trust her, trust me instead. Have faith in me now." Sarah held out the detonator, she couldn't fight a war on all fronts. If he couldn't have faith in her leadership, in her, then they didn't stand a chance anyway. His jaw tightened before he nodded, taking the detonator from her. "Get them set and get the hell out of her. Protect John, he's all that matters now."

She couldn't think of a better way to show her trust in him. To give him care of the person she valued most in the world -that the world itself would come to value most, man or machine- was the biggest show of faith she could bestow. One good turn deserved another.

"If something gets to him, it's because it came through me first," he promised. In that moment, the look of love that he had for her son seemed so profound, Sarah could have sworn she was staring at his brother. "For what it's worth, I hope I'm wrong."

"That makes two of us."

Giving her a nod in farewell, Derek was off, leaving his half spent rifle beside her. Sarah snagged the weapon, firing at the Triple Eight and pushing Cameron back into the server room. She closed and locked the door, spinning the heavy wheel to set the lock.

"How long?" Sarah asked, pulling the rifle magazine out to check her ammo. One in the chamber and two in the mag. Fucking wonderful.

"Three minutes until complete viral upload. Two minutes until the Triple Eight rips the door off its hinges."

"Fine, I'll just bloody his nose a little bit."

"I didn't want you here," Cameron confessed.

"And I didn't want you dead so I guess we both lose," Sarah couldn't control the curt tone, still pissed by Cameron's attempt to cut her out of the mission.

"You're supposed to be..."

"In the detention center, I know." Unwilling to die with bad blood between them, Sarah took the machine's hand. "Plans changed, I... Cameron?"

The machine's eyes closed, the hand that Sarah held beginning to twitch.

"Cameron?" A flash on the screen drew her attention away from her companion and Sarah was surprised to see herself and John on the screen. "What the hell?"

"It's the Nexus AI. It's accessing my neural cortex and downloading the information to its servers."

"What? Shut it down!"

"I'm trying. It's a back door security program meant to identify intruders, the AI is significantly more developed than I anticipated."

"Disconnect, now!" Sarah stepped closer, ready to forcibly pull the line from the port in Cameron's head.

"It's already accessing motor functions, I can't." The tone was the closest to panic Sarah had ever heard from the machine. "It's accessing my base program, I..."

Sarah knew the moment it happened, the moment the AI took control of Cameron's body and flipped the switch. It wasn't the mechanical step forward nor the palm strike that sent Sarah across the room. It was the eyes, the warmth that suddenly wasn't there, replaced instead by a blank stare.

The clang of the door outside assured there was a much danger in the hallway as there was now in the room with her, she had nowhere to go. No place to hide. She could only hope that Cameron was strong enough, fast enough to beat herself and shut down her base programming. But that wouldn't happen so long as the terminator was connected to the AI, force feeding Cameron's chip.

Sarah pushed herself to her feet, rubbing at her chest as she surveyed her options. At the very least, she had to disconnect Cameron from the computer. Even now she could see images filling the screen, the AI was pulling every scrap of information it could from Cameron's memory.

"Cameron? Can you hear me?"

The machine stepped forward, straining the limits of the cord that tethered her to the Nexus AI. Sarah's radio crackled to life, the signal spotty in the heavily insulated room.

"Sarah? The charges are in place," Derek's voice, more garbled static than anything came across the line. Sarah's eyes found Cameron's pack, nestled next to one of the computer keyboards, their main payload shoved into weathered canvas. In it to win it.

"Set them," she said, without hesitation. "Set them and get the hell out."

"Are you in the clear?"

"We both know I'm not getting out of here, Derek." Sarah's voice held nothing but quiet acceptance of what she had known would be the truth.

There was a pause, a moment of dead air between them. "Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him, 'I'm sorry'. Tell him I did my best." If Derek had a reply, Sarah didn't hear it. She dropped the radio to the floor, crushing it under her boot, unwilling to let the AI listen in any more than it already had.

"Just us now, Girlie." There was no recognition in brown eyes, beyond that of a hunter knowing its prey. If Cameron was still in there, she was deep in the depths of the chip, probably fighting like hell to retake control of her body.

Sarah's eyes flicked to the computer screen, surprised to find the virus was still downloading. She thought the AI would have stopped the process the moment it took control of Cameron but it hadn't. Indeed, lines of code were playing across a side screen, looking much like the battle Cameron had fought with her base programming.

"That's why you're not in there," Sarah said, eyes falling on the shell that had once housed Cameron. "You're in the system." It must have been too much for Cameron, to both deal with killing the AI and wresting control of her body from her base self. She had chosen to destroy the AI. Chosen to save humanity, rather than save herself.

As much as Sarah was in awe of such a selfless decision, it presented more than one problem. Sarah couldn't exactly snap the tether that was Cameron's tenuous connection to her body, she might end up trapping the machine in the computer system. The one that John's virus would be dismantling piece by piece once the download was complete.

Even the Cameron shell seemed reticent to break itself from the cord, brown eyes tracking Sarah but not moving forward to strain the taut cord any further. Was it the AI or Cameron's last grasp on her body holding the terminator in place? And it was a terminator. No question. Head slowly shifted from side to side as it scanned the room, no doubt looking for something that would make an effective projectile to kill Sarah with.

A fist punched through the entry door, the heavily dented metal finally giving way under the Triple Eight's blows. Trapped in a steel box with a bag load of C-4 and two terminators.

"Out with a bang, Connor." If Cameron's estimates had been right, she had a minute before the viral upload was complete, rendering everything else inconsequential. First things first. Sarah side stepped Cameron's body, grabbing the explosives as she ran past the computer station and tucked herself in the furthest corner of the room. She set the charges, resetting the fifteen minute time delay for five minutes.

"Cameron, as soon as you're done uploading that virus you get your ass back in your body, you hear me?" She knew it was a long shot, hell, it was practically no shot, but the survivor in her wouldn't allow her to quit. She opened the vent that pumped air into the room from the cooling towers below. It wasn't large enough to fit a person but if she gave the bag a good shove it would send it to the level below, ensuring it couldn't be recovered before it blew. She pushed it down, keeping one eye on Cameron's body as the terminator walked away from her, headed toward an office chair.

The door groaned and screeched as the Triple Eight strained against the metal, bending three feet of sturdy alloy just enough to allow clearance for his body. She had to keep him from severing Cameron from her body, her only weapon the cheap rifle Derek had stolen from a guard.

Taking a knee, she pulled the rifle into her shoulder firing off two quick shots. One landed in is his ocular implant, the other skimming harmlessly off his cheek. She was set to peel off her last round when she was hit from the side, the office chair knocking her to the ground. Her rifle clattered to the ground, the last round discharging as it hit. The bullet struck the wall, the ricochet cutting across a pipe and spraying the room in pressurized steam. Sarah was saved from the worst of it by her position -low on the floor- but the Triple Eight was momentarily forced back by the pressure, flesh melting from his face as the heat destroyed organic tissue.

Sarah grabbed the rolling office chair, ducking low beneath the steam as she ran at the Triple Eight full force. She narrowly missed the Cameron shell's grasp as she rear ended the Triple Eight, taking him out at the legs and pushed him into the furthest corner of the room. It left her full access to the door, to safety.

She could do it now, leave. Get far enough from ground zero to make it out in one piece. It was what Cameron wanted, to keep her safe and destroy the AI. Could Sarah leave Cameron? Sacrifice the one thing besides her son that brought light into the darkness. Even if she could, could she live with herself afterward? Not a chance.

Sarah dropped low, avoiding the fist that would have punched straight through her chest. She didn't bother trying to sweep his leg, she'd be lucky to get a knee to buckle, let along get his leg to collapse. Instead she shot toward Cameron, the terminator reacting on its programming and striking out. A step to the side and Cameron's hand met the Triple Eight, throwing it backward. The larger machine recovered quickly, shoving Sarah to the side as it kept on its path for Cameron.

Just as the Triple Eight threw a punch that would have damn near decapitated the other machine, Cameron's body collapsed, the Nexus screens going blank. The virus was in, Nexus was going down. A twitch on the ground indicated Cameron, at least some version of her, was trying to reboot. Sarah lunged for the computer cord, severing the line with her boot knife. It wouldn't do for the AI to find a way to download itself into Cameron, the young woman had enough to worry about with her own programming.

Sixty seconds until Cameron was up and running. The Triple Eight, realizing its mission to protect the AI was for naught, turned his attention to Sarah. She just had to hold him off, bloody his nose a little until Cameron could sort herself out. Sarah ducked a swipe of his arm, nearly tripping over Cameron's prone form as she backed away.

Her watch beeped out the four minute warning on her C-4 charges, nowhere near the time it would take to get Cameron and get out. If nothing else, they had destroyed the AI and would blow Nexus half to hell. It wasn't a total victory but Sarah would still toss the mission into the 'win' column.

The Triple Eight was quick to back her into a corner, meaty hands grasping a shard of the destroyed office chair. Nowhere to run. No weapons. This was it. Sarah had always known it would come to this. She had never truly believed cancer would take her, never believed Skynet would let her live long enough for her body to betray itself.

This moment was seventeen years in the making and she faced it as she had all other things, fists raised, body coiled, a fighter to the last.

"Sarah Connor, you are terminated."

The Triple Eight sliced at her with the shard, merciless aim targeting her temple. Sarah put up her arms to block the blow, fully expecting the last sound she ever heard would be that of her arms shattering. The strike never met its mark, the Triple Eight's arm stopped by slender fingers that grasped its wrist in a steel grip. Cameron grabbed his shoulder with her other hand, pulling him off his feet to send him into the opposing wall. His heavy body dented a control panel, the circuits erupting and bathing him in an electric blue light that shut him down.

Cameron spared a brief glance for her, eyes quickly scanning all of Sarah for injury before turning her attention back to the Triple Eight. She advanced on him, small body dwarfed by the mountain of muscle that was recovering itself on the ground. They didn't have time for this.

Sarah reached out, grabbing Cameron's shoulder to stop her. "Leave him, it's time to go."

"You go, I'll hold him." Cameron shrugged off Sarah's hand, vengeful intent written in her stance.

"I'm not leaving without you." Sarah stood her ground, damned if she'd gone to all that trouble just to let Cameron throw her life away. "Is destroying him worth killing me?"

Sarah knew the answer, hand held out for Cameron to take, fully trusting the young woman to make the right decision. Cameron didn't disappoint, lacing her fingers with Sarah and forcibly pulled her out of the server room.

There was no way they would make it. They would be lucky to hit the elevators before the whole place tumbled down on them. As Sarah gripped Cameron's hand, running for all she was worth, Sarah found herself oddly at peace. Maybe they had truly done it. Stopped Skynet. Given John back his future. She chose to believe it as her watch beeped out three minutes.

A sudden tug on her hand nearly pulled Sarah off her feet as Cameron changed direction, away from the elevator and down some unfamiliar hallway.

"Cameron?"

"There's an escape tunnel for the programmers, it's shielded, it may contain the blast."

"How?"

"It was in the AI's database, it's not far, we can still make it." Cameron pulled her this way and that, the litany of halls so convoluted that Sarah couldn't have retraced her steps if she tried. Their last turn dead ended with a door, the heavy steel shut tight, a brightly lit keypad beside it. Cameron punched in a code, frowning when the door refused to open. "The AI has altered the code."

"It's still alive? We can't leave until…"

"Only for another fifty seven seconds," Cameron answered, pointing absently as Sarah's watch which was quickly ticking toward zero. "The program is trapped on the local servers, once the bomb detonates, it will be dead." Cameron punched in another code, and another, her frustration growing more evident as the AI shut down passcodes as quickly as she could enter them.

"I don't mean to nag but faster is better."

25 seconds and the door beeped, the circular handle loosening itself. Cameron tugged it open, shoving Sarah though. They were inside a small antechamber, their way blocked by another steel door.

20 seconds.

Sarah shot forward, grabbing on to the handle and turning for all she was worth and Cameron sealed the primary door.

15 seconds.

Cameron thrust her through the opening door into a dimly lit hallway, slamming the secondary barrier shut with a single minded ferocity. One machine enhanced tug sent the handle spinning, sealing the door.

10 seconds.

Sarah pulled on Cameron, they wouldn't get far but anything was better than nothing. Far in the distance she could see a pinprick of natural light. They'd almost made it.

5 seconds.

Cameron grabbed her around the waist, throwing her against the wall, sandwiching Sarah between a concrete wall and her own sturdy body.

Knowing it might be her last chance, Sarah wrapped her hands in Cameron's hair, crushing the younger woman's mouth to her as the world exploded around them.

**888**

Awareness came back slowly, her mind content to wander as her body gradually became aware of itself. Sarah was relatively certain she wasn't dead, she doubted the afterlife smelled like charred metal and an electrical fire. Beyond proof of life, she didn't have much to go on, she was reasonably certain all limbs were intact though her left leg was completely numb so she couldn't swear to the fact.

She blinked in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust as her hands moved down her body. Whatever had controlled the lights in the escape hallway, either primary or emergency generators, had evidently been compromised in the blast. Sarah smiled through her split lip, she had always known how to throw a party.

Her hand found the reason for the numbness in her leg, a large chunk of cement that had her pinned on the ground. Her hands didn't find anything more than a bit of blood, no open fractures, that was a relief. She just needed Cameron to… Damn it, Cameron.

"Cameron?" Her voice was hoarse and Sarah coughed as she sucked in a lungful of powdered cement and dust. "Cameron?" Where the hell was she? Sarah reached out as far as she was able, sweeping her hands across the rubble for any sign of her companion. Finding nothing within reach, Sarah forced herself into a sitting position, letting out a sharp curse when she pressed weight on her bad wrist. Definitely broken. Again.

Sarah shimmied on the ground, trying to pry her leg free, when she heard shuffling to her right.

"Cameron?" The darkness was suddenly broken by twin blue lights that focused on Sarah's position with laser like precision.

Oh, shit.

"Cameron, you with me?"

It took a moment -a moment in which Sarah was certain she could have heard grass grow, the silence was so pervasive- but the blue light dimmed and the hallway was cloaked in darkness once more.

"Sarah, are you injured?"

Sarah sagged in relief, head hitting the concrete wall behind her as she let out a breath.

"My leg is trapped, where are you?"

"Approximately ten feet from your location, one moment." More shuffling, the creak of iron rebar bending and cement chunks landing somewhere off to the side. Sarah presumed that was Cameron freeing herself from whatever she'd been trapped under. Then, the weight from her leg disappeared, a gentle hand prodding her shin to check for injury.

The wash of relief quickly gave way to anger and Sarah reached out without thinking, planting her fist into the meat of Cameron's shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me! I thought…" Sarah didn't know what she'd thought, waking up alone in the dark.

"That I went bad again." Cameron said as she helped Sarah to her feet.

"No." Sarah shook her head, her greatest concern hadn't been that Cameron had been compromised but that, "I thought I lost you."

"You almost did."

Sarah pulled Cameron to her, sagging into strong arms, the adrenaline and anger that had been fueling her now completely spent. Cameron stood with her, in the dark, her stalwart companion as Sarah breathed out her relief.

"Do you think we did it?" Sarah asked, long moments later as she released the hug. Cameron began to walk down the debris littered remnants of the hallway, small hand tightly clasped in Sarah's.

"I don't know. The data about Skynet's inception is never fully confirmed. I hope we did. But…"

"But what?" Sarah asked, muttering a curse as an errant piece of rebar sliced at her calf.

"Skynet isn't dead, not truly, not until I'm…"

"Don't even think about it." Sarah cut off the idea before it could blossom. She had already had this conversation once. She had given up the other terminator, trusting they had won the war to stop Skynet. She wouldn't take that risk again and she wouldn't give up Cameron. Not now, not after all this.

"I'm dangerous. My programming tried to assert itself again. Every time my core system reboots, I'll have to fight it. I may lose."

Sarah shook her head, knowing it was possible in theory but refusing to believe it would ever come to pass. Cameron had fought her deepest self, had opportunity to give birth to her own machine race, be the progenitor of Skynet itself. And still she had fought for humanity, for Sarah.

"We all have darkness in us, Cameron. We all have to fight those urges, to give in, to let go. Don't you give up on me, Cameron. Don't you dare."

"But..."

"No 'but's', Cameron," Sarah said as they reached the opening of the tunnel. It was barred by a steel grate that Cameron easily pushed out, an open field before them. "This is what we do. We fight, we laugh… we love. It's what makes us who we are. It's what makes us human."

As the sunlight streamed into the dark tunnel, Cameron's features came into sharper focus. The young woman was in rough shape, metal shining brightly through the various gashes across her face. Blood dripped down the tattered remnants of her uniform, the baggy fabric doing nothing for the lithe form. Sarah thought Cameron had never looked quite so beautiful. Quite so human.

"Promise me you'll give yourself a chance, Cameron." Sarah's hand went up to the mutilated cheek, cupping the smaller woman's face. She pulled Cameron forward, kissing the gleaming metal. "Promise me you'll give us a chance."

Cameron's eyes found hers, total trust staring back at her. "I'm with you until the end. I'm… in it to win it."

Sarah laughed at the familiar phrase, tugging the woman forward to plant a kiss on soft lips, heart full of more hope than she ever thought she would have again. "I like the sound of that, it's too taste."

Smiling brightly, Cameron jumped from the tunnel and holding up her arms to help Sarah down. Taking her hand, the machine led them unerringly toward the rendezvous, toward John, toward home.

Maybe they had truly stopped Skynet. Maybe they hadn't. Maybe the dark road to a bleak future was already paved. Sarah chose, for this moment at least, to believe otherwise. The future wasn't set. There was no fate but what they made for themselves. Sarah looked over at Cameron, knowing whatever the road to come, she wouldn't walk it alone.

No fate.


	14. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Don't own them. *sigh*

**Author's Note: **The biggest trouble with the original way this was posted seemed to be the not quite happy ending. I might argue differently but I still aim to please. I've gone back and split Chapter 13 from the Epilogue. If you want to Moulin Rouge it and stop the DVD at chapter 23 for a flat out happy ending, I'd recommend you don't read the Epilogue. For the original ending, read on….

**Author's 2****nd**** Note:** For a really nifty vid inspired by Arming Pasadena, check out youtube video Tornado_TSCC by 71prowler

**Epilogue**

2019: Battle of Pasadena

"Tempest, bring the others this way!" Connor called out. The Sergeant -a burly man with more guts than brains- complied, motioning with thick hands for his men to follow him. Tempest would go through the fence first, his group of seasoned soldiers clearing the way. No way the squad of newbies under Connor's command would manage the two T-200's on their own.

As Tempest distracted the metallic sentries, firing curses and bullets in equal measure, Connor slipped below the electric wire perimeter. His men had dug out the gap not two hours ago, under the cover of darkness and rain. His body -made lean over nearly a decade of guerilla warfare- wriggled easily through the muddy hole. He had sent a scout through first, to alert the others in the camp that Resistance Fighters were on their way to free them. Hopefully two hours had been time enough to spread the word and have the camp prepped to make their dash for freedom.

Not all the prisoners would make it. They never did. Of the thousands he had rescued over the years, there were hundreds more lying across every battlefield he had ever commanded. But he knew this battle from inside out, Derek's detailed first hand account etched firmly in his mind. He knew what had worked, what hadn't. Connor had planned the attack as thoroughly as he could, knowing that new problems would arise the moment he engaged the enemy. His mother had taught him that. No battle plan survived the first encounter.

Connor looked to the right, eyes finding those of his uncle, now barely a man. He had toyed with the idea of keeping Derek and his father behind the lines on this one, concerned about risking men who meant so much to his past. But, as Derek had once told him about the boy in the military school, the Reese brothers in a bunker somewhere were as useless as them being dead. The skills Derek and Kyle learned at Connor's hand would be the skills they would teach him and his mother when he sent them back to himself, some ten years from now.

The circles Connor ran in his head never ended, every action he made was always a calculation, not just for his future but for his past. Could he ready himself better? His mother?

"Sir, Tempest's put the guards down. He's drawing fire."

Connor knew Tempest died, Derek had told him so. But his sacrifice would give them opportunity to rescue nearly seven thousand people. He knew Tempest would think the sacrifice was worth it. It would be a good death.

"Move in, groups of three. Stay out of sight as long as possible, we don't want to draw attention until we're sure air cavalry has made it across the perimeter."

"Yes, Sir."

"Reese, both of you, with me." Just because he couldn't keep them out of the battle didn't mean he couldn't try to keep them out of trouble. They sprinted across the muddy ground, dodging lights and laser scans to slide to the door of a metal hut. A quick flick of bolt cutters snapped the lock from the door and they opened it to find dozens of people tightly packed into the dark space.

"Listen up, we're getting you out of here. I need everyone to stand up and stay calm. Reese." He motioned with his head to the brothers who nodded, slipping off their packs. Each of the Resistance Fighters had been loaded with a cache of weapons, taken from a small storehouse in the desert that had lain untouched for almost a decade. They passed the weapons around, handguns, rifles, the odd shotgun.

The whirr of helicopters overhead signaled they were set to move. Tempest had Skynet's attention at the front gates and the resistance helicopters would delay the HK's from getting in the air. A better window to run wasn't going to present itself anytime soon.

"All right, Derek, Kyle, you're point. I'll bring up the rear."

"But, Sir…"

Rear guard was the worst position. The machines would be on the verge of regrouping by the tail end of their human convoy. Of the three of them, Connor was the most likely to be captured.

"No arguments. Keep them safe, I'll be right behind you."

A blast outside indicated his engineers had opened a hole in the containment wall. On his signal, hell broke loose. The hut full of prisoners herded for the newly blasted exit, melding into the groups of other freed huts to be lost amongst the masses. Connor left them to their fate, ducking in to the shadows to head for a two storey turret, two hundred metres ahead. Derek said the turret had busted down hundreds of people before air cavalry had blown it to hell.

Not this time.

Pulling the one shot rocket launcher from its sling on his back, Connor took a knee, boots sinking deep in the waterlogged ground. Aim steadied from years of combat, he sited the turret, concentrating on the gun itself rather than the machine operating it. Machines could be replaced, it would take longer for them to remount a weapon. He fired, sending the rocket on its course. It was a small payload but was more than enough to destroy the gun, the explosion tossing the T-200 over the side to the ground below.

He gave in to the boyish urge to pump his fist in a show of victory, crushing the tube of the rocket launcher before tossing it to the side. Tempest's men were down, the burly Sergeant the last man standing in his squad as he fired a machine gun most wouldn't have been able to lift. How much could Connor tempt fate? How much could he risk changing?

To keep his fellow safe, anything.

Connor ran for Tempest, unhooking a grenade from his waist to launch at an approaching T-200. The small weapon only succeeded in blowing off a leg but that was enough to keep the machine out of the immediate skirmish.

"Tempest! This way!"

Either the big man couldn't hear over the sound of his weapon or was intentionally ignoring him. He turned away from Connor, walking deeper into the Skynet fortifications without regard for the machines that bore down on him.

"Tempest! What the hell are you doing?" And then Connor saw it, the reason for the soldier's one man war. A child, tucked against one of the work huts, hands squeezed tightly to her ears as gunshots rang out around them, trying to block out the screams as soldier and prisoners alike were cut down. Connor ripped two grenades from his bandolier, lobbing one under the track of a mechanized vehicle and tossing the other just over Tempest's head to take out a skinjob.

Tempest spared a nod for Connor, nothing but respect and acceptance in his eyes as he continued firing at the enemy. They were all dead. It was a reality they had to accept before walking onto a battlefield. Assume you were dead, then, if you weren't, you were pleasantly surprised. Connor wasn't sure either of them would be pleasantly surprised today. It wouldn't stop him from trying.

His mother never had.

Sarah Connor had fought to the bitter end. Digging at Skynet until her body was too weak to defend itself from the cancer that had done what no machine could. Killed Sarah Connor. His mother had lived for him, fought for him, given her all, knowing it would be her own body to betray her in the end. She had kept that burden from his shoulders until the very last. And though he knew Cameron's soul had died with his mother, she had never once wavered in her mission to protect him, dying at Skynet's hands to save Kyle and Derek. To protect their future, to protect his past.

Neither his mother, nor the machine she had come to love, had ever given up on him or humanity. Connor could do no less.

An explosion rocked against his body and Connor instinctively dove, sliding through the mud to end up beside the dirt covered child. He lifted her easily in his arms, shielding her small body with his own as he sprinted back the way he had come, body low.

He heard Tempest following behind him, the combined weight of the man and his weapon making for heavy footsteps. The steps were all the more noticeable when they stopped, the rat-tat-tat of the machine gun dying with its owner as Tempest hit the dirt. John looked back to see the man on his knees, blood pouring through his hands as he pressed them to his chest, his weapon at his side.

"Tempest!"

"Run, Connor! Run!"

All too aware of the fragility of the package in his hands, John nodded once, a thank you for Tempest's service. For his bravery. He ripped his bandolier of grenades from his waist, sliding them across the ground to his fellow. Through the darkness, through the mud and blood, Connor saw a feral smile cross the Sergeant's lips as he pulled the pin.

He didn't wait for the explosion, turning to follow after the others, running pell mell through the camp. The girl kept her head tucked deep against his chest, her sobs quieting as they crossed the shattered wall of the work camp. It was ten minutes of hard running before he caught up to the tail end of the evacuees, another twenty before they reached the rendezvous point to begin shuttling them to the various shelters around the area.

It took some effort but he eventually pried the young girl from his neck, sitting her on the remnants of a rusted out Jeep. Watery eyes stared at him, the already shed tears leaving streaks of clean skin down her mud encrusted face. He smiled at her, untucking his shirt to brush the worst of the dirt from her face.

"You okay? You're not hurt?" He asked, his voice hoarse from yelling orders across the battlefield. She nodded her head, dark locks slicked tightly to her head by the ceaseless rain. "You sure?" He brushed at her forehead, chapped lips pursing when he cleared the area around her eyes, attention caught by the small imperfection on her eyebrow.

And suddenly it made sense, why the machines had gone through so much trouble all those years ago. It hadn't been about killing him. It had been about keeping her.

Dark eyes stared up at him, full of an innocence he had never seen in them in his own childhood. And he knew he would give all to protect her, as she would one day do for him. Cameron had prepared him for this, that he would one day meet her. That he would be responsible for protecting her but eventually need to let her go. But that wouldn't be for another decade. For now, for today, she was a scared child who needed a friend, a protector. John remembered that feeling. He would put himself between her and danger for as long as he was able.

"It's going to be okay, Allison." He saw the surprise in her eyes, that he knew her name, that he knew her at all. "My name is John. John Connor. I'm going to take you somewhere safe, okay?"

A small hand reached up to his, tiny pinkie outstretched as trembling lips fought to speak. "Swear?"

He locked his finger with hers, nodding at the child whose life, like his, would become a story like no other.

"Swear."

~Finis~


End file.
